Conviction
by Courier13
Summary: A courier known for his conviction finds himself trapped on Remnant. With the experience of one marred by cruelty and violence, he'll continue down the roads he finds before him. Until the end. Cover Image, used with permission, by zetsumeinninja.
1. Right Man, Wrong World

**AN: So this is an idea I've had for a while, probably ever since I read LoftiestMilk0's** **When Earth Meets Dust** **. If you haven't yet read that story, do yourself a favor and go read it, as it is glorious.**

 **I hope you enjoy the story.**

* * *

 _-September 20, 2281_

 _There is a phrase that I have come across in my short yet vast journeys through the beige wasteland that I have come to know as home; a philosophy and mindset I find prevalent among those whom I would call peers. This philosophy, espoused within a single laconic phrase, has been written in blood among the concrete remains of the wasted world that I wander:_

 _War...War never changes._

 _The proclivity for violence that man possesses is only rivaled by man's ability to survive, recover, and rebuild after said violence ends. I have witnessed in my travels the never ending animosity that has so plagued mankind since its inception as a species. Once enacted in the names of varying deities, the perverse desire for power or simple greed, after the Great War, which started over the last few drops of black gold, consumed this once verdant realm, violence began over the far more base needs of mankind: water, food, and livable conditions. Now in this wasted world, man has carved its way back into what could be considered civilization, and thus finds itself thrust once again into the hellscape of war._

 **Chapter 1: Right Man, Wrong World**

 **-DATA UNAVAILABLE-**

The Courier had never in his entire life been as confused as he was currently. He knew that it had failed, the moonlit forest and temperate air gave away the fact he did not teleport to Big Mountain. The melted semblance of the once proudly "Scienterrific" device just compounded the issue. In addition, not one of Vault-Tec's myriad Government funded satellites could be reached via the Pip-Boy, which while not an uncommon event- many of the satellites have long since died to age and disrepair-was nonetheless an unwelcome one. However the Courier felt as though disrepair was currently not the reason for failure of the Pip-Boy's GPS function, what with the shattered remnants of the moon taking up space in the sky like a fat Politician making a speech at a Followers run soup kitchen.

No, the remains of the moon only allowed the Courier to come to the conclusion that any sane wastelander who encountered the Think Tank would come to. The "genius" design of the Transportalponder combined with the dust and grime of the wastes lead to a slight alteration in the fifth stage of teleportation, altering the rematerialization coordinates into the negative positions due to the program having absolutely zero safety budget and a drunk debugger. Because of these things, the device brought its poor owner to a completely new reality before melting into an irreparable pile of circuit board green goop.

This conclusion did not make the poor boy feel any better, instead opening up further questions such as: What reality is this? How did they shatter the moon? Did they have good food? And lastly, was there a way back? The man stared at the sky, and felt as though the longer he stared the more likely the answer to that last question would be: no.

Sighing to himself, the Courier decided to head south, the weight of his confusion being only overshadowed by the weight of his possessions. Normally the Courier would carry less, but he had been partaking in the process of moving away from New Vegas and thus carried much of what he owned with him in the safety of two duffel bags duct-taped together and a third hanging over his shoulder. Flipping a switch on the right side of his helmet, the Couriers vision turned green as his helmets night vision activated. The Courier did not feel well walking through the woods. Forests that thick no longer existed on earth, Zion's sparse woodlands were miniscule in comparison.

The forest expanded infinitely in every direction, as if covered the whole world. Judging by the underbrush, there were many different species, as the rotting leaves had varying appearances. Saplings could be glimpsed sprouting out of the compost like floor, reaching upwards towards its older brethren. Of course, the Courier was too busy tripping over the gnarled roots of the forest floor to notice any of this, being used to flat deserts rather than rugged forests.

After travelling for an hour the Courier came to a river, which relieved him to no end. After testing the water with his Pip-Boy's probe he filled up his canteen before following the river downstream. In the distance he could hear coyotes howl and felt slightly relieved knowing that at least one piece of wildlife was similar to his own. The Courier followed the river for about two hours, only resting once or twice to fill up his canteen and sit down for a moment before continuing.

During the last rest he heard some short faint cry of pain in the distance, as if someone had been attacked and wasn't lucky enough to fight back successfully. Getting up, the Courier ran in the direction of the cry. After two minutes of running, he came across some large steel wall. Looking down he could see that he was at the edge of the large forest, and that the wall expanded in both directions for a bit, before making a solid turn at a right angle. He followed along the steel wall, his left hand feeling it to keep himself steady.

Turning left the Courier saw a ripped hole in the bottom of the wall, seemingly caused by a bomb, judging by the barely visible scorch marks on the jagged edges. However the scratch marks and blood that splattered the wall surrounding the hole gave the Courier pause.

"Please God. Please let there not be deathclaws in there." The Courier muttered. Weighing his options, let whoever's in there die, or go in and fight what was more than likely an entire pack of deathclaws, the Courier swiftly ducked under the hole and entered the wall. Looking around there were a bunch of houses, but what surprised him were that almost all of them were intact, rather than breaking apart. The Courier was impressed with the effort put back into the rebuilding of the town. He then heard a quiet snarling in a couple of directions. They sounded like Yao Guai. Looking around the Courier found a large steel crate. Knowing it probably wouldn't hold out whatever was on the other side, he nonetheless pushed the crate with all his might and covered up the hole, knowing that while it wouldn't hold out any creatures for long, it would nonetheless hold them off long enough for him to find someone… hopefully.

The Courier snuck down the small alleyway between two buildings, the space between them only big enough for a single human. He took out the Ranger Sequoia he kept on his leg and held it tightly in his right hand. Every time one of the buildings would end he would look both ways out to the two wider roads that ran in front of the buildings. After passing the third set of buildings the Courier once again checked through the side alleys before ducking his head back behind the building. In the middle of the street on the opposite side of the building to his right prowled three yao guai, but they looked different. Instead of balding tumorous arms and legs, the yao guai were covered in fur as black as the night itself. Though they looked to be the same size, the Courier could tell they had a bit more muscle on their bones, probably due to not having a sparse diet of gecko meat and fruit. However what surprised the Courier the most were the masks they had on their heads. The Courier began to worry.

 _What the hell's up with the face masks? Did someone here train Yao Guai? Is that even possible?_

The Courier holstered his sequoia and pulled out the silenced COS sniper rifle he found near camp Yangtze. Crouching down the Courier once again lightly stepped out, this time taking a look down the scope, aiming the reticule at the nearest hairy yao guai's right eye, the Courier pulled the trigger, causing the yao guai to briefly cry in pain before falling down dead, the other three looking around, not even hearing the silenced shot. Quickly moving the sniper rifle the Courier shot a second round into the neck of the other one, severing it due to a lucky shot. By this time the last yao guai had noticed the Couriers shots and charged the Courier, getting stuck in between the buildings. The Courier pointed the muzzle of the sniper rifle into the mouth of the Yao Guai like creature before pulling the trigger, causing the creature to flinch, but not die. The Courier shot twice more before it stopped moving. The Courier loaded in another clip of armor piercing rounds, knowing that the skulls looked too thick for anything else to work, before noticing the creatures he just killed dissolving into the ground. Staring at the sight the Courier looked around like someone was messing with him.

Stepping out into the street tentatively, the Courier sighed at the sight in front of him. A human was lying in a pool of blood face down and unmoving. More than likely the poor guy was ambushed by the yao guai like creatures before meeting his demise. The Courier looked around, not finding any creatures still there. The Courier began to silently stalk down the street, his sniper held tightly against his shoulder. Looking up the lights of the town were out but looked like they had at one point been lit, the corpses of flies drawn in by the light giving away that fact.

"Hey."

The Courier turned around trying to find the faint voice he heard.

"Over here in the building."

The Courier looked to his right. From inside a light shone, providing little illumination in the middle of the dark road.

"The front doors blocked and I can't really move, head around to the back, the door may be unlocked, I don't know."

Not having much time the Courier ran into the alleyway and around the building, coming across the door he tried opening it only to find it was locked.

The Courier pulled out a bobby pin, a notch made into one of the ends, and a screwdriver. Feeling around for the first tumbler the Courier launched it up before knocking the lock to the side, catching the returning driver pin. Doing the same for the other pins, the Courier quickly unlocked the door, opening it to find himself in a well-furnished kitchen. The Courier closed the door and locked it from the inside, also locking it with the deadbolt. Walking through the kitchen the man entered what could only be assumed to have once been a restaurant. Turning his head he found an injured and bloody man, face lit by the lantern he had next to his side.

"...Stop! D-don't come any closer!"

 _Guess my armor is intimidating to him,_ the Courier thought. Turning off the night vision the Courier slowly walked over to the obviously scared man holding his hands out in front of him.

"Please relax, I'm not going to hurt you." Kneeling down next to the man, the Courier noticed that the man was bleeding from a large gash in his chest and his arm had a compound fracture. The Courier brought out some old looking doctor's bag and started checking the man's arm, and the man gulped. "Hold still, please."

"W-What's with the - AAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" The man screamed as the Courier set the man's arm back in place, the blood starting to flow back out at a faster pace. "Th-the first step is to stop the bl- AAUGH!"

"Sorry, but this isn't first aid, this is treatment." The Courier said as he brought out a bottle of alcohol and poured it all over both of the wounds as they continued to bleed. The man began to panic and hyperventilate. "What the hell are you even doing?" The Courier responded to this by injecting the man with a syringe!

"Stopping the blood loss. I would normally do that first but I needed to set the arm before injecting you or-"

"W-w-what d-did you inject me with?"

"A stimpack." The Courier gave the man a glance, figuring he, like any sane person, would be wary of an unknown injection. "Don't worry it's sterile. I made sure of that." What the Courier didn't tell him was that he had bought over three dozen syringes from the Followers, before going overboard in sterilizing them. He boiled them for over three hours before cooling them in an alcohol bath for the rest of the hour and then proceeded to refit an oven to use flamer fuel and baked the needles for over two hours. When Dr. Usanagi found out about the preparations she told him that not only were they unnecessary, as all needles are produced and sterilized before being distributed, but that the boiling and Alcohol bath would have been enough.

The man began to calm down as he noticed that, while the pain was unbearable, the bleeding began to slow down and the wounds began to heal. The man stared at the arm which began to heal up with what looked to the Courier like awe and surprise.

"Wh-what's in the stimpack?" The man asked as the Courier began to place the arm in what appeared to the man to be some sort of brace. The man tightened the brace and the man winced in further pain, however some of the pain was beginning to dissipate.

"Coagulant, low dose pain killers, antibiotics, and catalysts designed to kick start tissue repair. Second generation stimpacks can even heal broken bones somewhat, but I don't have any of those." The Courier said as he ripped off one of the tablecloths in the restaurant.

"It stops bleeding?" the man asked incredulously watching the strange armored man as he began placing the braced arm in a makeshift sling, having noticed the man's broken collarbone.

"Internal and external. I could go into more detail but I'm only guessing you need me to do something about the problem this town is facing." Finishing the sling the Courier stood up before looking at the ceiling, "Or is it a fortress… a city? Maybe a-"

"You really don't know where we are?" the man asked incredulously. "Roaring-Oaks? One of the biggest colonial efforts the Council of Vale ever financed? Seriously?"

 _Roaring-Oaks? Wait… like Roanoke? Well, that's a bad omen if I ever heard one,_ The Courier thought with a grimace hidden by his helmet. "Sorry, I'm new in town."

The injured man laughed with some pain. "Maybe I should give you the tour. Anywa- great Oum, that stimpack really works-anyways, you're right, everyone in this town is going to die if someone doesn't get the generators powered soon- well… I don't exactly have high hopes that we could survive for more than a few hours, let alone three days."

The Courier tilted his head. There were a dozen questions at the forefront of his mind, but the most pressing ones went first. "Three days? What happens in three days?"

"Class S-Distress signals are radioed to the nearest Military base or Hunter School. Unfortunately the closest of either of those would be Rojo at Sanguine Canyon, and they'll only be sending a single Bulkhead with some mechanics and a squad of soldiers. It'll take half a day for them to reach us. They'd see the problem and send the G-Class evacuation order. Bulkheads would have to come from several locations, and they would very likely send an airship. To get all that here and filled with evacuees under the threat of Grimm would take two and half days."

"Sorry for being unfamiliar, but something tells me that a Class S-Distress Signal wasn't enough to cover what's happening here."

"Really now? Some assholes decided to bomb the wall in several places, and such an event is classified as a Class S emergency: terrorist attack. Our hunter and guards would stay near the wall until it could get fixed but then the generator failed, followed soon by the backup generators blowing up, and people began to panic. We couldn't get to the generators in time and fell back to the central hall; that's why you aren't seeing any Grimm prowling the street. Suddenly the situation jumped up to a Class G emergency. Over the past three hours it's gone down the crapper, and now we're dealing with a scenario that isn't getting any better. Our hunter's going to tire out soon, and then we'll probably end up all dying once he and the guards are gone."

The Courier stood there for a minute in silence. "You said the Generators are busted? What does that mean? For the town I mean."

"Wall used to fry terrestrial Grimm. Since the power's gone, the defense system doesn't work. I volunteered with Artemis out there to fix the damn thing."

"Will it come on if I fix the generators?"

The man looked up at the Courier with what looked like hope. "Can you fix them?"

Looking down at the man the Courier replied tentatively. "I'm fairly decent when it comes to fixing and jury-rigging things. At the least, I could take a look, and if I can't fix them, I'll help this town hold out for as long as you need."

"If you can fix them, it would increase the chances of living through this crapfest. The toolkit's over there," the man said pointing over to the right of the door. "The substation's located in the southeast corner of the colony. Here's the key!" the man said as he tossed the key to the Courier. The Courier, having picked up the toolkit walked back into the kitchen. "Wait. Before you go… What's your name?" The Courier turned towards the man.

"They call me the Courier," he said before leaving the room. Walking out the door in the back the Courier closed the door before sighing and palming the front of his helmet.

" _They call me the Courier"? You should have just walked away you idiot! You came across like one of those damn knights from that Tæles of Chivalrie crap. Even I know that's cheesy! The worst part is that if you succeed they have a freaking title to speak of. Now you won't get that peace you desired. Good going! Really._

"Dammit" The Courier cursed himself outwardly yet again. He looked at the Pip-Boy's build in compass and followed it east through the back alleys of the various buildings. He thought to himself that this town is impressive for a simple colony. _Must have taken them a while to build this place. Dangerous too what with those… uh… what the hell are these things anyway?_

The Courier shook as head as he continued on, having taken out his silenced Sniper Rifle yet again. The Courier came across the large wall and looked to his right. The Courier palmed his helmet. _Isn't this where I came in?_ Looking back up he could see the box he had set in front of the hole had been pushed out of the way. Not the best of signs that. Sighing again, he headed south which was towards the hole. The Courier crouched and began sneaking, hoisting the third duffel bags strap over his head and pulled the strap so that it was held by tensile strass behind the makeshift rucksack on his back. Looking about the Courier continued past the hole and made his way towards a low and wide building in the corner of the city. Inwardly he sighed in content, right as he heard a growl coming from behind him.

 _Son of a ghoulified New Vegas whore..._ the Courier thought as he turned around to face his aggressor only to jump back as a claw came at his head. Not even waiting to examine his foe in detail the Courier dropped his sniper rifle as quickly as he could and pulled out his Combat knife, altered with a metal guard giving it the design of a trench knife. Swinging his right arm up, the Courier caught his aggressor in the chin with the knife and pulled his arm out in an arc, somehow managing to cut both the creature's carotid artery and jugular vein in the process. Jumping back, he watched as the foe fell to the ground due to passing out from lack of blood to the brain. However by this time the Courier noticed that the creature had friends-several in fact- as he dodged another swipe at his head.

Backing away, the Courier pulled out his shotgun, relying yet again on his favorite legionnaire killing device. Aiming quickly the Courier let loose a twelve gauge round of pure death into the nearest creature's neck, mauling its front and causing it to fall down like the first creature. Aiming at the next closest one's head he pulled the trigger and watched as the balls of lead pierced it's skull like visage before it began to dissolve, having died instantly from the shot. Three creatures being down, a fourth dashed at the Courier with its claws, looking to the Courier like a hairy deathclaw trying to rip his head off. He shot out the thing's leg and it stumbled before the Courier pumped his gun and shot the things head at point blank range. Barely noticing another coming at him the Courier quickly rolled to the side, coming up with the shotgun at his shoulder and aimed at the black furred monstrosity before pulling the trigger blasting through its skull. Looking over the Courier noticed there were five more monsters looking back at him with hungry red eyes. The Courier fired three shots into the nearest one's chest, killing it on the second shot but the third shot being made as the creature was falling. Out of rounds in the shotgun the Courier pulled out his ranger sequoia firing two shots into the skull of a charging creature before it fell. Managing to dodge the second one to charge, the Courier was slashed on the chest plate by another he didn't see. Feeling lucky that no blood was drawn the Courier slammed the end of the gun under the creature's jaw before firing off two shots, the second managing to kill the creature. Turning around the Courier failed to dodge a strike, his left upper arm receiving a rather nasty gash before slamming the handle of the sequoia into the creature's eye causing it to reel back in pain. Running back the Courier shot out the creatures left hind leg, causing the creature to fall over when it tried to charge him. Cursing to himself as he was overwhelmed the Courier booked it, reloading his sequoia as fast as possible. Upon loading the last bullet he was knocked over by the one unscathed creature left. Hearing the creature charge the Courier rolled swiftly to one side, dodging the creature's attack. Pulling up the sequoia the Courier fired four shots into the creatures opening maw as it turned to face him. The courier yelped as the corpse came crashing on his lying body.

The Courier shoved off the dead creature and got up swiftly only to let out a dark chuckle. The last creature was balancing on three legs, and was advancing weakly towards him, the leg shot he made being far more damaging than he initially thought, as it was currently hanging on by a bit of the skin. Chambering a few rounds, he cocked back the hammer and fired a shot directly into the creature's skull, making a rather large cracked hole in its head. It slumped to the ground and began to dissolve. Injecting a stimpack in his arm to heal it, the man searched the ground for his discarded duffle bag and sniper rifle. Finding both he looked towards the hole before sprinting towards the generator building, not wanting to deal with any more of the strange creatures.

Opening the door, the Courier was happy to find that it was unlocked, and that the room wasn't filled with hostiles. He closed the door, and placed his rather heavy bags down behind it, acting as an impromptu light barricade for the door. Sighing in relief from finally being able to take off the packs the Courier decided to take a look at the generators themselves. There were several of them in the center of the room, and they appeared to be extremely efficient judging by their small size. They were just over half the Courier's height at around three feet and four inches. Taking a look at the missing panels, he noticed that several of the circuit boards controlling the system were smashed to bits. Looking around he found several of the pipes that allowed for coolant to flow were busted as well, and part of the main generator's armature was busted, preventing the current from flowing. In addition to all this, the backup generators' had their armatures in pieces on the floor, as if explosives detonated within the generators themselves.

The Courier quickly walked over to the main generator, looking at the broken bits through the green glow of his visor. While the armature could definitely be fixed, it would be better to simply replace it with one of the backups that still had one mostly intact, same thing for the broken power control panel. Looking back towards the backup generators, the courier found that one still had a mostly intact armature, but the power control panel was completely destroyed. On the opposite side of the room was a power control panel that was more in-tact than the rest. Grunting to himself the Courier started to go to work.

* * *

"NACHT! WELD THAT DOOR SHUT NOW!"

"BUT SIR!"

Looking back to his battle the hunter dodged backwards from the ursa major's strike before jumping back into the creatures guard, gouging out the creature's neck with the hook end of his blade. Using the collapsing ursa as a ledge to jump off the hunter jumped a good ten feet in the air. Below his feet was a seething black mass of fur, blood, bones, pure anguish and rage.

The endless army of grimm had been hounding this town for the past three and a half hours, and just under ten minutes ago the small bunker that was the town's community center had just been itself breached, something the hunter and the few uninjured guards were attempting to rectify. The hunter would go out and kill any grimm that came close to the door, the uninjured guards would weld the door shut, and as soon as the steel doors were welded together the hunter would jump to the top of the roof and enter the building through a small hatch. At least that was the initial plan ten minutes ago, when the hunter still had energy to fight, and the guards knew he would be able to get back inside. Now though…

"DO IT NOW!" the hunter shouted as he fell splitting the head of another ursa, spinning as his feet hit the ground clearing a throng of beowulves that he had landed in the middle of. Not even looking back the man blocked an incoming strike with his strange hooked blade, parrying it before turning around and swinging his blade upwards, ripping the jaw off the poor ursa that dared try and take him from behind. The hunter dashed through the throngs of grimm making mad slashes, caring not if they killed or crippled the grim, shouting as he went in a vain attempt to get their attention off of the guards at the door. Jumping into the air again the hunter saw a dot of light travel in between the two large plates of steel, before extinguishing at the bottom. Smiling in dark humor the hunter decided to try and reach the top of the building.

He sprung off the head of the alpha beowulf he landed on and managed to get out of the creatures strike range fast enough. Grabbing one of the downspouts, resulting in several screws coming loose, the hunter began to climb towards the roof. Pulling himself over the ledge the hunter chuckled.

"Great job Frost… really, great job. Maybe if you hadn't tried to weasel your way out of responsibility you wouldn't be caught in this mess. 'Where do you see yourself in ten years?' If I ever see that recruiter again I'm going to shove a boot straight up his a-"

The hunter could only stare slack jawed at the sight before him, the sounds of the grimm below only barely covering the excited murmuring that was taking place under the concrete roof. He could only smile and laugh at the sight that stood before him, its majesty like that of an angel descending upon the battlefield. Of all the things that Frost thought would keep him determined to keep moving forward, an activated streetlight was the last thing he would have expected.

* * *

"That armature was much lighter than I thought it would be," the Courier muttered to himself, wiping off some sweat on his unhelmed face. Looking around the Courier smiled knowing that his efforts worked, what with the lights brightening up the dark substation tremendously. However what truly gave him joy were the sounds of electrified creatures in the distance and the low hum of the electrified wall sending a million jolts into said creatures. That meant that fewer of the damned creatures would enter through the holes, meaning that the situation itself could be salvaged, unlike the town.

The courier dragged his duffel bags from in front of the door to right next to the door, before removing some spare ammo from the one bag that wasn't taped to another. Reloading his weapons, and donning his helmet, the Courier opened the door and stepped outside into the now slightly lit street. The Courier would admit, not having to use his night vision took a load off his mind, as he hated having to use small energy cells keeping it activated. Taking out his shotgun the Courier walked towards one of the larger streets, throwing all previous subtlety out of the window, instead hoping to goad the strange creatures towards him.

As he turned the corner the Courier couldn't help but utter a small curse as he saw the throbbing black mass of creatures at the end of the street. _How in the legionary populated hell did I miss THAT? It's a good thing they didn't see meeee- wait… didn't the injured man say the reason they weren't in the street was...oh._

Holstering his shotgun the Courier once again pulled out the trusty sniper rifle. Crouching down the Courier fired four shots into the writhing mass of creatures, causing three to fall, not that any of the other creatures noticed, due to their preoccupation with trying to get into the sealed building. Aiming the last shot carefully the Courier shot off the top part of the skull of one of the creatures ramming its tusks into the doorway. After reloading the Courier continued until he ran out of .308 rounds, killing a good number of the creatures and making only the slightest of dents in the massive hoard. Some of them began to turn to him, having sensed him at the end of the street, but they seemingly ignored him in favor of the people trapped inside the building. He briefly thought about pulling out his Gauss Rifle, but decided against it when he noticed a man jumping off the building with what appeared to be two hook swords one of which had some sort of large cylinder attached to it. The man started charging through the creatures, and making quick work of them.

Sprinting forward the Courier pulled out the Survivalist's Rifle, and began to fire at the hoard, hoping to thin the numbers before entering close quarters combat. As he got closer he noticed that the two men's' efforts had thinned the horde quite considerably. After emptying the current clip, he once again pulled out his shotgun, the creatures having started to charge him. Not slowing down the Courier fired a shot into each of the charging creature's heads as he and they approached one another, felling several of the creatures. Getting into close range he dodged a strike before shoulder checking one of the standing Yao Guai like creatures and firing a shell into the fallen creatures head. Rolling out of the way of another strike the Courier unleashed the last shot into the creature's chest at point blank range, killing it. As he reloaded his shotgun the Courier backed from the creatures into the wall. One creature slashed downwards only to find its paw blocked by the shotgun's barrel pushing the creature back with great force, finishing the encounter by shooting out the creature's lung with a twelve gauge. The next creature did hit the Courier with his strike but its claws simply scraped the front of the Couriers armor. Hitting the wall and dropping his shotgun he let out a groan before pulling out his sequoia and shooting the creature in its snarling maw, killing it instantly. The Courier finished off the rest of his assailants with other four shots in the cylinder.

Picking up his shotgun the Courier noticed there were only a few creatures left, the ones that looked like hairy deathclaws, but seemed to be much weaker. Two of them were larger than the others, and the man with the hook sword was currently engaging one. The other looked towards the Courier, as if sizing him up. Loading one dragon's breath round in to be fired next after the currently chambered round had been fired, he pulled the shotgun up to his chest and killed one of the smaller ones, once again attempting to goad something bigger than himself into charging at him foolishly. The large creature in front of him, its bone spikes sharp and deadly, surged forward. The Courier let out a small grunt as he fired the dragon's breath round causing the creature to reel back in pain due to its fur being set on fire. The Courier then charged at the creature, and fired several rounds into the creature's torso before entering the creatures striking range. Jamming the barrel right under the creature's jaw, he fired the last round, blasting straight through the creature's head, the pellets falling back down to earth not shortly thereafter.

The Courier pulled out his ranger sequoia only to find the street empty of creatures, the man with the hook sword having cleared the remaining creatures while the courier was busy with the bigger one.

"Alright, drop the gun."

The Courier turned around to find the sharp edge of the hook blade aimed at his cowboy scarf covered neck. Underneath the helmet the courier had a look of bewilderment, as most people he helped didn't subsequently threaten his wellbeing. Not wanting to cause violence and assuming there was a logical explanation for the event the Courier holstered the gun and raised his hands.

"I didn't accidently hit you with a stray shot did I?" the Courier asked, thinking that he might have messed up during the fight.

"No. You didn't and thanks for helping me… but I need you to remove your helmet."

 _Uh oh._

"Any particular reason why I need to?" the courier asked, hoping that it came out as even toned.

"Well, only one of the terrorists survived, and someone managed to take a picture of him with their scroll. I want to know if you're him." The dark skinned man in front of him stated bluntly.

The Courier sighed and resigned himself to his fate of having his face known by the people he helped, knowing it would mean he could no longer avoid attention, the courier pulled off his helmet.

"Holy dust…" the hunter exclaimed as his eyes went wide.

"Please don't tell people about what I look like." The Courier begged. He knew his face was rather...unique compared to others.

The man lowered the hook sword and guffawed. "I don't know why you don't want people seeing them, those scars are pretty damn cool in my opinion. How'd you get them?"

"All of those stories are too long to tell right now. I hope you're satisfied that I'm not the terrorist you're looking for."

"Yeah, you two look completely different. He's also older than you… I think." The man said as he and the Courier began to walk towards a side ladder next to the building. "Hey, you came from the direction of the substation right? Did you see anyone? "

"Actually there's an injured man down that road over there" the Courier said as he pointed towards one of the streets in front of them, "he was the one who sent me to fix the generator an-"

"THAT WAS YOU?" The man shouted, a look of joy on his face. "HA! Holy crap! Really?"

"I'm decent at repairs."

"Decent my ass! You are one impressive guy you know that? Where'd you graduate from?"

"Graduate? I had little formal education actually, I mostly taught myself over the years."

The man turned and gave him a strange look. "You never went to a combat school?"

"I'm… not from around here, so no, I never went to a 'combat school'. I once had to fight through a 'high school' infested with robot scorpions though if that counts." The courier responded.

"I'm sorry... Robot scorpions?" The man asked bewildered as they approached the ladder next to the building.

"Eh...forget it. It's a long story and you honestly wouldn't believe a word of it."

"Alrighty then … err… What's your name?"

"...Caleb… JUST... Caleb… but most people call me the Courier."

"Courier huh… you deliver packages?"

"Yeah, though my career was… how to say it... interrupted some months ago."

The two had by now reached the top of the building, despite the Courier's reluctance to climb the ladder, and entered through a hatch on the ceiling. The two returning heroes walked not two seconds before being swarmed by happy civilians. The Courier tried his best to keep his helmet from being taken off. A good portion of the civilians were staring at him, or more specifically the desert colored armor and dusting that protected him, innumerable scratches and bullet marks scarring the chest piece. He could see the hope in their eyes even from here. He looked back to the man in front of him who was being saluted by several armored guards.

"Oi! Nacht, grab a squad and head down Peach Street! According to our glorious repairman here," the man spoke before gesturing to the Courier, "there's an injured civilian in one of the buildings."

"Yes sir!" one of the guards said, lowering his salute before leaving and distributing what must have been the last few clips of ammo for their strange looking assault rifles. The man called Nacht grouped up with several other guards and disappeared up the ladder.

The man, who still had yet to give his name to the Courier, turned back to him and spoke up with a curious look on his face.

"Hey… you said you never went to a combat school right? And that you're out of a job?"

"Well, I can always find another job, but yeah. Why?" the Courier asked.

"You're pretty good at fighting, judging by how you took down that Alpha beowulf. How old are you? You look pretty young, despite the scars on your face."

"I'm not exactly sure, but by my estimate I'm a couple months short of turning eighteen… why do you ask?"

The hunter gave the courier a rather sly and foxish looking grin, one that spoke of plans in the making and people to persuade. The Courier, having seen such grins on the faces of people who subsequently took advantage of him in multiple different ways, backed up slightly, moving towards the ladder which would take him to the roof.

 _Oh son of a nightstalker… I dug too deep!_

"Maybe I should go help … Nacht! I should go help Nacht with carrying the injured -"

"I know someone that would _definitely_ want to speak with you," Frost interrupted, still sporting that foxish grin.

"That grin is _very_ disarming."

* * *

 **AN: I'll reveal things as the story goes along and I'm happy to say I'm working on the second chapter.**

 **If you have any thoughts, comments, or constructive criticism please leave them in the comment section.**


	2. Lights Shining in the Darkness

**AN: Sorry it took so long, I've been bogged down with University over the past month, and in this chapter alone, I wrote and rewrote potions so many times it just took forever. I wanted to thank you guys so much for the feedback! I was overjoyed to find that you guys like the story. Some of you were wondering if I was going to do the "usual hash" (as TehUnoman put it) and that would be a no as far as I can tell.**

 **Sorry if this chapter is a bit dialogue heavy.**

 **Beta read by my Resident's Assistant: Zane.**

 **As I said before: Enjoy**

* * *

 _September 30, 2281_

 _Many have asked why I walk the way I do in spite of my life, clinging to the hopeful idealism that so defines the worldview of children and the naive. I often find that asking a question serves as a better answer than any statement, as it often allows the brilliant mind that lies within every sentient being to come to their own conclusion._

 _Have we not made strides since the world burned?_

 _Have we not risen from the ashes like the phoenix of legend?_

 _Have we not given up despair for hope, and created with the remains of the old something new?_

 _It is far easier to give in and believe man to be a dark creature only capable of performing violence, than it is to accept that man is creature both light and dark, able to commit both atrocity and charity. Then again, most don't consider the fact we seem to cling closer to heroes than those they face._

 **Chapter 2: Lights Shining in the Darkness**

Morning is and has always been a time of different extremes. On the one hand it is an evil entity which threatens to destroy the wonderful worlds in which people find themselves in, before dragging them kicking and screaming back towards reality, smacking them in the face for refusing to go along. On the other hand, morning is a time of hope and renewal, the beginning of a bright new day as the darkness of the night ended, producing hopeful imagery. This is perhaps why it is popular amongst hobbyist writers and poets for its imagery and symbolism.

 _Damn sun!_

The Courier, however, was one of those rare individuals to whom the morning was simultaneously both of those extremes. After everything had quieted down from the night before and the few grimm, as he finally learned they were called, that made it into the now relatively safe city had been taken out by Frost's and his efforts, the various combatants had decided on guarding the holes in the wall on a rotating schedule. The Courier, having come from a region of Earth in which it was, at the time, the afternoon, had not yet tired and volunteered for the first watch. He finally felt the exhaustion of the past several hours catch up to him by the time the sun rose, which back in the Mojave would be one hour past midnight. That was why, instead of greeting the morning with happy eager eyes, he instead cursed the irritating light that so painfully reminded him of his rapidly deteriorating circadian rhythm. Sure, he would sleep tonight but that still didn't ease his throbbing cranium. Worse still was the fact that he had adamantly refused to let people see his face, lest they memorize his highly… unique visage, and thus he was unable to massage his own temples.

"GRAWL! RAAAWR!"

 _Then there's this guy. Still, I have to hand it to… er… it, it's determined._

The Courier stared at the smoking ursa dragging its way through the hole, despite its injuries. In another time he would have left the creature alone, partially out of a respect for its determination to live, but mostly out of a sense of pragmatism. Why waste a shotgun shell on something that wasn't likely to kill anything anytime soon? Unless, of course, it happened to be a deathclaw, obviously.

Aiming the shotgun at the crawling beast the Courier fired, the buckshot round blasting apart its skull. Pumping that last empty shell out, he sighed as he pulled out those strange shells that guards had insisted he take. They looked just like regular buckshot to the Courier, but the Courier took apart one of the shells earlier, out of a rather dangerous sense of curiosity. He then learned exactly how combustible this "dust" was when a spark from one of the stray wires under the wall set aflame the dispersed material. He was lucky his Desert Ranger Combat Armor was as thick as it was, and that the flames that nearly consumed his leather duster were easily extinguished.

 _Might as well get used to using them, the people here don't seem to use gunpowder. All I have to do now is wait for another grimm to crawl through._

"Hey! Mr. Courier!"

 _Well… crap…_

The Courier turned around to face the guard that came up to him. The young man wore some strange green painted set of what appeared to be Mark II Combat Armor. The man's head was uncovered, his greasy and sweaty bronze hair out for all to see. The man looked at the Courier before continuing.

"Sir! Frost said you need to go see him… and that you need to take a break."

 _Sir?_ "The grimm don't take breaks, why should I?"

The guard gave the courier a worried look before speaking once more.

"Because unlike the grimm, you'll eventually collapse. Also, again, Frost _needs_ to see you. I'm to relieve you."

The Courier stared at the man with a worried expression. It wasn't that he felt the man was weak; anyone who could live through what had transpired hours ago was anything but weak. Rather, it was that he felt that the guard could be overwhelmed due to a combination of tenacious grimm and his own probable inexperience in fighting them. Looking at the guard, he could not help but think of an inexperienced NCR trooper.

The Courier had seen inexperienced troopers fight against legionnaires, and the results were far from pretty, especially for the ones who lived and lost. The sights that he had seen in the Mojave had caused him to come to the conclusion that, due to the NCR using inefficient and short training regiments, their non-specialized troops had been left individually physically weaker than fresh legionnaires. In his opinion, they were less front-line soldiers and more peacekeepers, better suited to maintaining the safety of the vast roads of the Republic against inner threats such as bandits and slavers. Still, the NCR had enough decent leadership to more than make up for said inexperience and poor suited-ness in the war against Caesar's Legion. That and they had help. The Courier might be younger than many of the troopers but he was far more experienced.

The Courier shook his head to snap himself from his thoughts. Looking back, the poor guard had shrunk under the Courier's gaze, confusing his unseen look of concern with some form of tranquil anger at being bothered. The price of not having one's face known was that others often saw anger where there was none.

"S-s-so-sorry… I-I-I-"

"I'm not mad if that's what you're thinking," the Courier chuckled. "I'll go see Frost… but if you get overwhelmed by Grimm don't hesitate to run for help."

"I'm no use to anyone dead right?" The Guard chuckled darkly, his fear having left.

"I don't want to see anyone else die," the Courier said. There was a terse silence between the two before the Courier decided to leave, giving a short farewell to the guard. The Courier looked around as he walked through the silent sunlit streets.

 _They built this town for functionality over comfort._

The Courier never had time to examine the buildings and structure of the town having been busy with slaughtering the soulless creatures of darkness and death. Now that he got a good look at it, he couldn't help but feel a sad sense of familiarity with the destruction and ruined buildings. All down the street laid broken buildings with shattered windows and vague dark stains on the walls. All of that lay upon an architectural foundation the Courier found to be utilitarian in design, what with the emotionless grey concrete buildings and steel plate doors.

The convention center had few differences when compared to the other buildings in the town, being slightly shorter than most of the other buildings but much wider. The Courier climbed up the ladder to the roof once more, greeting the guards on lookout for any aerial grimm- the existence of which unnerved the Courier to no end. Climbing down the hatch once again he found himself staring at a rather relieving sight.

Many of the civilians snored in their slumber, lying against the walls or in sleeping bags on the ground, many of which were he found grouped tightly together. The sleeping bags just barely separated them from the ground littered with papers, empty cans and bottles. It was rather early in the morning, so the Courier didn't really expect most city dwellers to be awake, but he was still surprised anyone could sleep after the attack. Those who were awake regarded him with respect in their eyes and smiles on their faces. They could not see it, but the Courier smiled back under his helmet, happy to know that people could still find the effort to smile in such conditions.

After sneaking through the room, down the stairs, and through another civilian filled room, the Courier found himself staring at the office which Jacob Frost had taken as some sort of command post. Inside, he could hear static from a short range radio used to communicate with the other soldiers. Sighing to himself, the Courier opened the door only to close his eyes and cover his helmet with his palm. Closing the door behind him, the Courier spoke up.

"Frost… please wake up… you might cause a panic."

The sleeping form of Frost stirred on the table, hair the color of the cold blue being the only thing the Courier could see. The man's jacket, which matched his hair color, was loose around his wiry frame.

"Uhhh…I'm not sleeping, I'm just resting my head." The man said, pointing a finger into the air before rising up. The man's dark complexion couldn't hide the dark tint under his eyes, showing he was just as tired as the Courier if not more so. The man blinked as he yawned.

"Ugh… What d'ya want Caleb?"

"Frost, you called me in here. You also sent that young guard to relieve me."

"Huh? I did?" the sleep deprived hunter asked. His eyes shot open. "Oh yeah! I did! Wait, why are you calling Yabloko young? You're younger than him by two years!"

"Sorry, but he is still pretty young."

"I'm too tired for this."

The two stared at each other for several moments.

"Um… So… Why did you call me in here?" the Courier asked in a nervous tone.

"Hmm? Oh right! I needed to tell you to go get some sleep."

The Courier tilted his head to get his incredulousness across. _I know he's concerned_ _,_ _but he could have just relayed that message to me through one of the guards._

"Okay… okay, I get it. You remember what I said last night?"

"That you were going to 'put in a good word for me'? You still haven't told me about that 'someone' who you said would want to speak with me."

"Well, I decided to call him right after I called the Valian Military, as I wanted to speak to him about you. Luckily, he was in Vale at the time, otherwise I would not have been able to reach him until we arrived the city itself, and by then it probably would have been too late to get you in."

"I'm guessing it might not have gone over well?"

"No, it went great! He's coming personally to talk to you!"

"Why? All I did was jury-rig a generator and stand in one spot for seven hours," the Courier shrugged.

"You also saved over three hundred lives, man! That's no easy feat! Have a bit more pride!"

"Anyway, who is this guy?"

"My old headmaster! Y'know, you're one lucky guy to have a friend like-" Frost Grinned.

"Headmaster?"

Frost's grin shattered like the moon.

"Headmaster, a well… you don't know what a headmaster is?"

"I do actually. But a Headmaster of what?" The Courier asked

"A combat school, obviously."

"What's a combat school?"

Frost slapped his palm into his face.

"A school for training huntsmen and huntresses."

"You need to train to hunt game?"

Frost slammed his head onto the table.

"I can't tell if that was sarcasm or not. Huntsmen and huntresses, you know? Defenders of society? Slayers of grimm? Sex magnets? People like me."

Frost sighed, and the Courier frowned underneath his helmet. Neither could really handle being awake at the current moment and thus they chalked each other's' inability to… well to do just about anything other than shoot straight to their exhaustion. Looking at Frost's rather perturbed fact the Courier decided to speak up first, trying to get the conversation started again on a more relevant topic.

"The other holes are well covered, right? Did you use my idea to use a pile of metal to conduct the electricity and slow them down further?"

"The other holes are far larger than the one you guarded; those were the ones most of the grimm were coming through before you got here. We drove some forklifts and metal crates into the holes, meaning only the really small grimm could make it through. The guards are handling what comes through rather well all things considered, but I probably should have asked you to guard one of those instead."

The Courier shook his head and replied.

"The hole I was guarding was small enough to kill most of the grimm that tried coming through, but around fifty made it past the small opening, judging by my now empty supply of non-dust shotgun shells."

Frost looked at him incredulously.

"Wow, you really have crap luck. That's far more grimm than all of the other holes combined. I think I need to send more men to-"

"Not really, the hole's only big enough for one at any given time, and I told Yabloko to come running if he was in trouble."

"...Fine, I'll trust you. Anyways, I wanted to tell that the first bulkhead should arrive in an hour or so. You don't need to meet it, I can handle that much. You need to find a place to sleep and get some rest."

"I'm not one to deny sleep, but… why do you care about how much sleep I get?"

Frost sighed.

"You need to be at your best by the time the headmaster arrives, as I _really_ don't want _you_ to give off a bad impression. It might diminish your chances of getting in."

 _This again?_

"And I would want to get in because-?"

That stopped Frost cold. The man never really took into account that the Courier might want to attend- or more accurately, find the importance in attending- an academy for learning how to 'properly' fight. The Courier knew the academy was supposedly prestigious, but he felt formal combat education might be far less pragmatic than he liked. He knew Frost meant nothing by it, and in fact felt as though it would benefit the Courier, but he felt as though the decision ignored his own ambitions.

"Well- y'see… Um… I just… I thought you wanted to protect people? You do...right?" Frost asked with some desperation.

"Do I need a formal education to do so?"

The Courier noticed Frosts rather regret filled expression. He frowned under his helmet, knowing that he chose the wrong words. Sighing, he finally took off his helmet again, looking at Frost's eyes without the green tinted lenses of his helmet. Frost seemed surprised by the action, likely assuming that the Courier never removed his helmet, as if his face was something he would rather hide.

"Sorry, I appreciate your offer but… Well… I travel a lot… and I'm used to it- hell, I enjoy it!" The Courier sighed. "I don't know if I'm exactly ready to settle down for… for however long this school would have me stay. I'm worried about being stuck there, in between my desire for freedom and my desire to leave things finished. I mean, as a courier, I don't get payed for jobs half done you know."

"... Heh… Maybe I should have asked before I informed him about you. It's just… It's just most people who take even a small interest in combat would leap at the chance to go to a combat school. It's prestigious as I said. Graduating from one practi- no, more than that- it does ensure one's career as a hunter! I just thought that you might get something out of it y'know… maybe get stronger, help more people. I mean, not to- you-you're already a hero as is! You saved our collective asses man! If you had the training that my school offered, you'd be a force to be reckoned with!" Frost walked around to the Courier, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I… I want to see you become a hunter, and get the respect you deserve."

The Courier was rather surprised to hear such reasoning. Most people who tried rewarding the Courier gave money, supplies, weapons or armor; something physical. Getting a recommendation into an academy for the sole purpose of bettering his skills and earning respect was rather new, and it honestly made him regret his choice of words.

 _I don't think I've ever met someone outside the Rangers who thought I deserved more respect than what I earned. Ah, dammit._

The Courier sighed.

"I'll… I'll talk with him… see exactly what he wants. But, I would like it better if you were there as well… I think it would make the discussion easier."

Frost smiled before replying, taking his hand of the young man's shoulder. "Deal. Whatever you decide, I'll support it. You've earned that at least."

Putting on his helmet the Courier exited the room and headed up the stairs towards the second floor, hoping to find a nice dark closet to sleep in. Walking around upstairs, noticing more and more of the civilians waking up, he eventually found a door that opened into a lightless closet. Using the flashlight on his Pip-Boy, the Courier found the closet to be rather larger than he initially thought.

Entering the room, the Courier moved one of the shelves diagonally towards the other so he could lean against the wall, some of the tool boxes and bins fell off, but the clutter on the ground didn't land on anywhere the Courier was going to be sleeping. After turning off the Pip-Boy's light, the Courier sat against the walls. Sighing and relaxing the Courier closed his eyes, quickly falling asleep in the warm confines of his clothes.

* * *

"Hey man you need to wake up!"

The Courier opened his eyes quickly, twisting his body as he started to reach for his pistol. He stopped himself before he could pull out anything when he found himself staring at the overweight man silhouetted in the doorway. The Courier stood up.

"Er, Sorry about that."

"Sorry about what?" The man asked. The Courier responded with a simple shrug, before responding.

"Never mind, what do you need?"

"Well… the evacuation is underway, and we're not exactly eager to leave you behind."

"Evacu-How long was I asleep? Wh-What time is it?" The Courier asked as he clutched his head.

"It's about eight at night, and the Airships arrived about half an hour ago. We're being flown to a makeshift refugee center in the city of Vale for the time being. Not my choice, but it's the closest city. Don't worry, the wounded have already been transported onto the airship, they were the first to be taken in. The medics are looking over them as we speak. The rest of us are being escorted slowly but surely onto the ship. It's just taking a while because some people refuse to give up their belongings."

"How long do you think it'll be until the airships leave?"

"Another half hour, why?"

"I need to pick up my supplies from the Generator Building." The Courier stood up and walked past the man, giving him a wave as he left. "Thanks again for waking me up!"

The chattering that defined the building when the Courier entered for the first time had been replaced with silent solitude. The hallways were empty of people, making his trip outside rather short. Climbing once again onto the roof the Courier was again met with the night sky, though it was now obscured by the various lights nearby. Looking at the source, the Courier felt his mouth drop beneath his helmet.

The vehicles that stood before him appeared like something straight out of a science fiction novel. Lit up by the lights of whatever makeshift landing zone had been made, the Courier could only guess at how large the ships were. They easily dwarfed the few Vertibirds the New California Republic obtained from the scraps the Enclave left behind, making those rather bulky air vehicles look like a radroach compared to the Giant Roboscorpion that the Courier had faced at Big MT. They were colored white, but had components painted a greyish black color. Each of the airships had four wings, two on each side, with the leading edge painted black, and attached to large blocks with rudders attached, as if the ship was some sort of boat that sailed the sky.

One of the Airships took off, the thrusters propelling it forward slowly while the wings made circular motions as if swimming leisurely. The Courier had to snap himself back into reality, shakily climbing down the ladder as he began the long trek back towards the Generator building. The walk was lit by the dim light of streetlamps, indicating the jury-rigged generator still worked, but only provided some of the power the town was used to. The Courier would have liked the night to have been quiet but he could hear the sounds of the engines now that he was no longer inside a building. The noise was silenced when he entered the building, still in the same shambles it was when he left it. The single working dust generator was making sounds that from a machine were similar to the death cries of a mole rat, and he couldn't help but feel pity for the poor machine, having helped rebuild it briefly just the night before. Before hefting his bags onto his back and shoulder, he ensured all of his belongings were in their proper place. Not finding a single empty shell missing, he lifted the heavy duct taped bags onto his back and grabbed the third by its strap, placing it on his shoulder as he left the building once more.

He couldn't help but feel apprehension as he approached the airship, entering a line of civilians waiting to board the ship. The man in front of him gave him a smile and offered a handshake, which the Courier reciprocated, still uneasy as he moved forward. After the affable man was allowed onto the ship the soldier stopped the Courier with an outstretched arm.

"Name please?"

"Uh, I'm with Jacob Frost…"

The Courier was given a look by the soldier, whose eyes were covered by a visor. Still the Courier could only guess that he was unhappy with the statement he made.

 _So that's what it feels like for people looking at me._

The Courier leaned in close to the soldier and whispered his name. Nodding, the soldier began to check the list before being tapped on the shoulder by a strange, grey haired man in a black suit.

"Let him pass, he is with us."

"Of course sir!" The soldier responded. Looking towards the Courier the soldier apologized. "Sorry about that sir, I have orders to check the names of all the civilians. I didn't know you were a hunter sir."

"It's fine, but I'm not a hunter, just a friend of Frost's"

The Soldier nodded before ushering him past. The Courier merely stood still and looked at the ship, trying to hold off entering the vehicle for as long as possible; an effort broken when the grey haired man spoke up.

"Mr. Caleb, we have been waiting for you since the Airship arrived. Please, follow me."

The Courier simply watched as the man walked onto the ramp and into the cabin of the ship. He took a moment before walking forward to follow him. He moved through the crowded cabin, gently passing the throng of people in an attempt to follow the grey haired man. Some of the people attempted to stop him, hoping to ask a question or two but were politely rebuffed. He followed the man through several rooms and hallways, each filled to the brim with people, until they both stood in front of a door, whose tinted window eschewed any attempt to peer inside. The grey haired man knocked on the door, before it opened to the visage of Jacob Frost, who now appeared to be rested for once since the incident.

The Courier entered after the grey haired man, who walked over to an old man in a beige military greatcoat, a large fir trim displayed prominent around the neck. His eyes were tired and experienced, befitting the wrinkle filled face and smile. A large grey beard overlapped his neck, flowing down like a waterfall until it reached the tip of the man's chest, more than making up for the lack of hair on the elderly man's head. The Courier couldn't help but feel a bit envious of the man's apparent beard growing capacity, himself being beardless.

Frost closed the door before placing a hand on the Courier's left shoulder, giving him a proud grin as he walked towards the table in the center of the room. The two men in the corner also moved towards the table, but remained standing on the opposite side. The Courier nodded towards them before placing his bags in the corner, out of the way of anyone who would enter or walk through the room. Then he removed his helmet, placing it on top of the bags.

"Well, I see my old student wasn't joking when he said that you had an odd appearance. I've never seen one as young as you with so many scars. Aside from that, I can only hope that your hair is not always so unkempt and covered in grime?" The bearded man said with a chuckle and smile.

The Courier made a slight nod before responding.

"Sorry sir. I've been traveling for about two weeks now, and I haven't bathed in about half that time."

"Well, that is something we'll need to rectify later. For now I believe introductions are in order," the Elderly man said with a slight bow. "I am Owyn Lyons, Headmaster of Shade Academy. Jacob here thinks quite highly of you, and if what he said is true, I believe I may have a place for you at my school."

"Nice to meet you… erm… Headmaster. I'm guessing you already know my name though," The Courier said as he shook the elderly headmaster's hand while simultaneously scratching the back of his head. "And it's nice to meet you as well… er?"

"Ozpin."

"Mr. Ozpin."

" _Headmaster_ Ozpin." The man said with a smug grin on his face.

"...Okay then. Headmaster Ozpin." The Courier said as he looked at the grey haired man. The four stood around the table, before Lyons began to chuckle good-naturedly.

"Why don't we all have a seat now? It'll be more comfortable than standing up."

The other three agreed, and then promptly plopped onto the cushioned chairs that surrounded the table. The Courier's eyes wandered after he had taken his seat, noting in wonder the design of the interior. Oddly for a wastelander, he felt comfortable in the room, perhaps because he was with someone he knew wouldn't stab him in the back, or perhaps it was because the room reminded him of the Sink. Looking back towards the three others he found them staring at him with curious eyes.

"Is something wrong?"

It was Ozpin who spoke up first. "According to Frost, you appeared out of nowhere, performed first aid on a dying man, saving his life, before following said dying man's directions to a building containing broken generators. You then proceeded to not only fix one of said generators, but then proceeded to help eliminate the remaining grimm inside the colony. Not only this, but according to Frost, you have no combat training, and are merely a package courier." Ozpin leveled a curious glance over his glasses, before continuing. "We want to know-and do not lie to us, for we are very well versed in determining lies- is this truly what happened? Are you truly what you say you are? Or are these events embellished?"

The Courier shook his head. "I would say most of those details are wrong." Frost gave the courier a shocked expression and mumbled something under his breath about wasted opportunities. "I came from… well… it's a long story and I doubt you'd believe it if I told you."

Lyons stroked his beard as he spoke, "There are many strange things in this world Mr. Caleb, and I think I speak for all of us when I say we would like to hear that 'story' but please continue."

The Courier nodded. "Second, I killed a few of those… Ursa? Before I found the man and treated his injuries… Is he alright by the way?"

Ozpin nodded, "According to the doctors your first aid not only saved his life, but placed him on the road to recovery rather quickly. Apparently the strange drug you injected him with did what he said you said it would do, and kick-started tissue regrowth around the damaged area. While the bone will take time to heal, his muscles and skin should be fine in a few weeks. I would like to ask you about that drug before we part ways. For now, please continue."

"Understood. Third, I would say I treated his injuries rather than apply first aid. As you said, I placed him on an early start to recovery."

Ozpin spoke up and leaned forward. "Are you claiming knowledge of medical treatments?"

"I know a bit about medicine."

"That's what you said about your skills in repairing, and I know for a fact 'a bit' doesn't cover rebuilding a generator!" Frost exclaimed.

"That's what I was about to cover next." The Courier said, shaking his head. "I didn't exactly fix the generator. All I did was jury-rig it. It'll only last for a couple more days. Five at the most. My aim was to get it kick-started and then come back once the makeshift repairs began to wear down."

"Jury-rig, fix, it's all the same man! Stop being semantic!" Frost yelled rather exasperatedly.

"Calm down Frost." Lyons said with a nod of his head. "Mr. Caleb, from what I can tell, the account is accurate, but you are downplaying your own efforts. Am I to assume that you believe it to be solely Mr. Frost's actions that ended the grimm presence in the colony?" The Courier responded with a nod. "I see. In that case I believe I understand the situation. I believe this is proof enough for you Oz?"

 _Oz? Wait, like the wizard? Didn't I already go on a journey to get my brain back… Oh God, please tell me I still have my brain._ The Courier thought worriedly. He shook his head and felt the familiar rattle of his brain against his… enhanced skull. _That's a relief._

"Mr. Caleb."

The Courier looked towards Ozpin, who was leaning his head into his hands, covering his mouth with his folded fingers.

"It is clear you're telling the truth, and that you've earned the praise that Frost has given you. Despite making us wait, you indeed have the heart and mindset of a huntsman, albeit one with more… humility, shall we say, than strictly necessary. However, if I am not mistaken, you have never attended even basic combat schooling. Not only that, but according to Frost, you have never even heard of combat schools. Tell me, is this related to your 'unbelievable' story in how you arrived at the colony?"

The Courier sat still for a minute looking at the table, finding the polished chrome rather nice compared to the rusted steel look most tables had back in the wasteland. He was about to answer when he felt a lurch in the airship. There was a brief shaking as determined by the table wobbling back and forth. This was followed by a lifting sensation, with the force of gravity combining with the force exerted by the airship suddenly ascending giving the semblance of the former becoming stronger. The Courier looked out of the window behind the two men to see the dark silhouette of the tree line disappearing beneath the bottom of the window frame. The Courier closed his eyes briefly, inhaled and exhaled before looking all three of the men in the eyes.

"Yes… yes it does."

Lyons leaned forward in his seat, his arms resting on his legs. "Please, explain."

The Courier looked around, before looking back. "I'm… not from here."

"Well that is rather evident isn't it? You lack the air that most Valians give off," the old man responded.

"It's actually a nice change a pace. No offense Headmaster Ozpin," Frost interjected

"I take some," the headmaster said with a scrunched smirk.

"No, I mean… I'm not from _here_. I'm not from this world… this… what did you call this world?"

There was a silence in the room as the three men stared at the Courier. While the Courier looked down at the table, he began thinking of how he would escape the mental institution or jail they inevitably put him in. He probably should have just remained quiet or let them come up with their own story, but something just told him that would lead to complications down the line. However compared with what would probably happen now that he told the truth he was beginning to not trust his gut instincts.

"Do you have proof than you're not from Remnant?" Lyons asked.

The courier gave a rather dull look at the three in front of him.

"What?"

"If what you said is true, it would not be the oddest thing to have occurred in either of Oz's or my lifetimes." The old man shifted and gave the Courier a discerning glare. "That being said, we are all rational beings Mr. Caleb. That means we require proof to believe any statement such as this, and in this particular case, the burden of proof is on you."

The Courier stared blankly at three men's expressions, trying to gauge whether or not there were simply trying to appease to what appeared to them a rather mentally unstable individual. They were examining him intently, gauging whether he would crack mentally from the unexpected response or would give them proof of being from a completely different world. He sat there quietly, coming up with some sort of proof.

"If… if I showed you ammunition-ammunition that didn't require Dust or gunpowder… would- would you believe me then?" The Courier asked.

Ozpin and Lyons both leaned back in their chairs and gave him a gesture to show what he had.

The Courier stood up and walked over to his bags, taking out an empty Sunset Sarsaparilla bottle as well as an energy cell. The courier placed the bottle on the edge of a small waste bin in the corner of the room before walking back towards the table. He placed the energy cell onto the table and gave them a gesture to examine it. Ozpin was the first to pick it up, twisting and turning it in his hands silently. He handed it off to Lyons before speaking up.

"It looks like a battery to me," He said bluntly.

"Well that's what they were designed to be: high capacity batteries... essentially. Nowadays though they're mostly used as ammunition… which… well was just another purpose when they were designed. I mostly use them to power my plasma defender" the Courier replied, pulling out the energy pistol.

Ozpin raised an eyebrow at his statement. "Are you telling me that you have what is essentially a battery powered pistol that can shoot plasma? No bullets? No dust projectiles?"

The Courier shook his head, before pausing and gesturing towards the empty bottle.

"By all means," Ozpin said

The Courier opened his palm towards Frost, who was the current holder of the energy cell. The man handed it over, watching as the Courier loaded it into the middle of the barrel. The Courier took aim at the bottle and fired. A bolt of green plasma shot out of the end of the pistol hitting the bottle, but some of the plasma continued on and hit the corner, causing the metal there to melt slightly. Holstering the pistol the courier turned around to see them still staring at them, but their faces were much more relaxed.

"Was that really plasma?" Frost asked as the Courier sat down.

"Yes."

"Why didn't you use that in the fight against the Grim?" the hunter asked.

"... Energy weapons from my world sometimes turn what they hit into a pile of ash or green goo depending on whether the weapon is laser or plasma based. A bullet will do internal damage but can be managed… being turned into ash or goo on the other hand..."

"Okay, I got it! Please don't give me that kind of Imagery, I like sleeping." Frost said with a frightened look on his face.

"Well, Mr. Caleb, I believe that despite the damage you've done to the wall," he said with a gesture towards the corner of the room. The Courier said a quick apology before the grey haired man continued. "You have made your point. We indeed have no technology available at the moment which can turn simple electrical currents into bolts of plasma. While we have lasers, lightning guns, and the ability to fire bolts of electrical dust, the ability for something so small to shoot a bolt of heated plasma without the use of dust ammunition is not yet within our grasp. And that battery contained no dust as far as I am aware."

"However, that still leads us back to exactly how you found yourself on Remnant," Lyons interjected. "As well as your purpose for being here."

The Courier gave an embarrassed grin and chuckled. "Well, uh… I can tell you I'm not here as a vanguard for some Communist Alien Invasion like some of those old films might have you believe."

"What's a communist?" Frost Interjected.

"Long story-But as I was saying… Er… I was traveling, or to be more precise… moving," the Courier said.

"Moving?" Lyons asked with a raised eyebrow. "You mean to tell me in the process of moving from one house to another, you ended up being transported from your world to ours?"

"It's a bit more complicated than that, see, those bags over there," the Courier said, pointing at his duffel bags, "contain all that I care to own. I was carrying that with me during my travels eastward. Then there was… there was an accident," the Courier frowned. "I had a device capable of instant transportation to a place called Big Mountain, a center for research that is… well…friendly to me. But there was another accident, and instead of being transported there I ended up in the middle of the woods on a mountain, a stark contrast to the desert I was currently trekking through if I might add.

"The Transportalponder-that device I mentioned- melted into a pile of green goop of either plasma or melted semiconductors. I'm not going home anytime soon."

The four sat there in the cabin in silence, the only sounds coming from the various conversations that could be heard through the doorway. The first to break the silence was Frost who was shaking rather noticeably.

"So… if that Transpon-Transtla- teleporter worked properly… we'd… we'd…"

Frost grasped his head in hands and slouched forward, pushing the chair back so his arms were touching the table. The Courier placed his hand on the man's back, trying to calm the man nearly having a breakdown. It took a few minutes for Frost to regain his composure before the four began to converse again.

"You seem to have quite the story Mr. Caleb," Ozpin stated. "Perhaps one day I will be able to hear it. Sadly today isn't that day; I must consult the captain, and inform him that the airship is safe."

The Courier tilted his head. "It's a flying hunk of metal, how can it be safe?"

"Ah, what I meant to say was, that I shall inform him that _you_ , my otherworldly friend, are not a threat to the safety of those on board. That was the point of my presence here."

The Courier's eyes widened and he nodded in understanding. The grey haired man left the room after they gave their farewells, leaving only Frost, Lyons, and the Courier to discuss matters.

"So, now that the interrogation portion of this meeting is done, I shall get to why I am here." The remaining headmaster replied. He stood up and walked over to the window, looking out over the darkened horizon. "There are forces gathering in secret in this world, scheming for unknown goals. In truth, the attack on Roaring Oaks is but one of many to come in the future I'm afraid, and I shudder to think for what purpose these attacks are made. These forces are not without opposition, however. Ozpin and I, as well as many others, are preparing for when these enemies finally act on their plans, with whatever forces we can muster.

"War is coming to this world, and I know not whether the peace that has lasted nearly eighty years will last in its aftermath. Only the torch of hope, the light that shines within the darkest of nights, can allow us to stand tall against this darkness's approach. But the light needs bearers, holders, warriors! For without warriors it cannot fill the night."

There was a noticeable silence as the man finished his speech, waiting for the two men's response. He looked back at them with tired, sleepless, eyes which held in their dim light the sights of war and loss as well as the torch he mentioned. The Courier stood up with his face downcast.

"So that's why Frost said you'd be interested in me. You feel as though I could be an asset? Is that right?"

Lyons smiled at the man's understanding.

"That is indeed the case my friend."

"Pardon, sir, but why tell me this? While I appreciate the honesty, I -"

"I am not Ozpin," the old headmaster interrupted. "I do not keep secrets from those I trust, Mr. Caleb. I don't know if you noticed or not, but I am old, and I have seen things that no one should ever have to see. I was born in the ashes of one war and fought in another. If my experiences have taught me anything it's that keeping secrets from those you depend on will only escalate problems." The man looked down in sorrow, "If we are to the beacons of hope, of light, that we aspire to be then how can we keep each other in the dark. How can we fight together if there is no trust? Blind loyalty will only last so long."

The Old man looked up with dim fires in his eyes, staring at the young men who stood before him. There was a silence in the room that lasted for several minutes, during which in which the three men sat down at the table. The conversations outside the doorway were distinct but quiet enough that the wings' movements, and the sound of the engine could be heard through the glass. One of the workers on the ship came during the silence and left some coffee, courtesy of the absent grey haired Headmaster, and left with wordless thanks.

The Courier downed a large gulp, the scalding liquid numbing his tongue to taste. He sighed before speaking up.

"So… these enemies you speak of… what exactly have they done that's so horrible?" he asked.

The old headmaster responded with a sigh. "It's what they're planning that's horrible, not what they have already done, though we suspect the forces might be behind the attack on the colony. However, I'm a headmaster for a reason.

The purpose of Shade Academy, like all combat schools, is to prepare the next generation of hunters to protect people; to train them to fight all threats that would attack us. It isn't just the forces in the dark that's the problem, but the grimm and the evil of the world. That is why I look for talent in the youth of this world-and I guess yours as well-as only the best can defend this world against the encroaching horrors. Now… I must ask you Caleb, will you join my Academy?"

"...Yes," the Courier said, "I'll join, but I'm still worried about it."

Frost clasped his hand on his friend's shoulder, giving him a wide and happy grin.

"Wonderful! I shall contact my wife to let her know to add you to this year's list of applicants. Now, it is getting rather late, and I would like us _both_ to be well rested by the time we land, so that the journey to the train station that will take us to Vacuo can be made comfortably and without issues. Goodnight."

"Wait! Please!" the Courier exclaimed. The headmaster gave him an odd look.

"I still have one question, one question that it of the utmost importance!"

The two hunters looked at each other before nodding for him to continue, slightly worried at what could be so important to the being from another world.

"What's the date and time? I need to update the clock on my Pip-Boy."

* * *

 **AN: Ever since I read you guys' comments I've been thinking about telling the same story I planned but in a different setting. I decided to try something new, because after browsing the TVTropes RWBY page while procrastinating on a paper, I honestly thought a story set mostly in Vacuo might be interesting.**

 **Honestly though, the setting change doesn't really actually** **change** **much about the planned plot, as I wasn't exactly planning for the characters I was going to introduce to interact much with the canon characters outside of "Oh hey it's the upperclassmen! You guys have any crazy adventures recently?" Since the idea I originally had was the Courier going to Beacon, only a year after the start of season one, it wasn't… well:**

 **RWBY: VOLUME ONE (TWO and THREE)**

 ***Featuring** **Dante** **the Courier from** **Devil May Cry** **Fallout: New Vegas.**

 **(Though now I'm wondering who'd be the Demi-Fiend.)**

 **That was another part of the reason I decided to change the story's setting to what is essentially: around the start of season one but on a different Continent. I want to write a RWBY fanfiction in which the characters are essentially the** _ **Heroes from Another Story**_ **. That's where the year later came in, as it prevented the whole "fifth wheel" scenario (not that I mind those stories, just that they are rather overused).**

 **A problem arose when I thought to myself when I decided to change settings. Should I have this take place in Atlas, Vacuo or Mistral? I thought interactions between the Courier and General Ironwood might be interesting, because as someone who fought for the NCR the Courier would probably respect him as a competent military leader who would actually want to do something about the enemy instead of just letting them build up forces so he could claim glory over a mountain of dead Californians.**

 **Then I thought about the Wizard of Oz, or more specifically, how RWBY has revealed only two of Dorothy's three (not including Toto) companions:**

 **James Tinman**

 **ScareQrow**

 **But we're missing one Cowardly Lion (unless we count Jaune. Though I don't think Alternate universe Rule 63 counterparts of historical Catholic Saints can double as references to old American Literature). And then it hit me. I could sprinkle in some Fallout 3 to this story by having the not-so-Cowardly lion be a character named after the creature itself: Owyn Lyons. And thus, we go to Vacuo.**

 **Sorry if this author's note was long winded, I wanted to get all of that off my chest. Thanksgiving break is coming up, so I should be able to get chapter 3 done and possibly part or all of Chapter 4. Hopefully.**

 **As always, please leave comments and constructive criticism.**


	3. Shady Sands

**AN: Merry Christmas.**

* * *

 _-August 1, 2279_

 _I have seen the skeletons that lay dead in the Boneyard, ribcages of steel and concrete, and I often find myself lost within thoughts of the world before the war, before the radiation, before struggling to live was the main concern on those that live in the ashes. The bones stand tall above the sand and dirt that so make up this new world, reaching towards the heavens with dead steely fingers. I know the purpose of these long dead giants, and yet I always ask myself whether they were the result of practical minds, or the minds of the dreamers._

 _Were they the end result of man's desire to reach towards the heavens?_

 _Or were they simply yet another means to an end, like so many others?_

 _In the end I realize that their purposes have long since changed. While their remains serve as a reminder of what man is capable of, they serve too as an inspiration, of what one day may be again._

 **Chapter 3: Shady Sands**

Being a well-traveled man, the Courier, in his short lifetime, experienced some of the most interesting sights that the Post-Apocalyptic west could produce. He has witnessed things of such beauty that he could only wish he had the ability to recreate even only a hundredth of their splendor. In contrast, he has also witnessed events and sights of such a horrifying and terrible nature they continue to plague his sleep almost every night. Of all the locales he has walked through, cities, what remained of them, or what had been rebuilt, have always been something leaning towards the former than the latter. While no city that had been rebuilt even partially could compare to what the forests of broken steel spires and dilapidated concrete must have been shortly before the bombs fell, the Courier still saw beauty in their form and function. He always saw them as physical that humanity had started to recover rather than falter further, as otherwise they would have never lasted as long as they had. To him, seeing others come together to make something bigger than themselves rather than destroy was indicative that humanity still deserved its place on the earth which it nearly destroyed.

Yet despite his feelings on the inner beauty of such post-apocalyptic metropolises, the sight before the Courier paled all other cities and towns he's seen. The city itself was by far the largest he had ever seen, being so large that he felt as if one were to drop the Hub into it, no one would notice. The towers of clay colored bricks and grey concrete were lit by the broken moonlight and the starry lights that emanate from the streets and buildings, demonstrating the architectures sophisticated and aged beauty even in the dark. From the airship the Courier could see even in the dark how the city was partitioned. Towards the west, where the sun had set just a while prior stood smokestacks and wooden warehouses, in such concentration that all of the New California Republic's own rebuilt factories could fit in the district twice over. To the north laid various large and ornate estates, indicating the wealth the residents of the district possessed. To the west of that stood buildings as tall as the broken spears that crookedly stood in the Boneyard, in various concentrations, for purposes unknown to the wasteland wanderer. South of that district laid a district composed of smaller, but still tall, brick and concrete buildings, surrounded by parking lots and fire escapes. To that district's west laid something surprising to the Courier: large fields of maize, wheat, and unseen rows of small vegetation surrounded by fruit bearing trees that lined near the river that split it from the district above.

However, what the Courier saw to the east was what stole his attention. Tall alabaster columns formed rows around a series of domed towers, their dark silhouettes visible through the shadows from the moonlight. In the center stood a tall spire, green lights emanating from a room near the top. To the wastelander it seemed as though the structure was straight from a work of epic fantasy and not a product of reality. He had to shake his head before gaping out the dark window, to clear his head from both the beauty and the incredibly height he found himself at.

"Beautiful, isn't it Mr. Caleb?"

The Courier turned to his left to come face to face with Headmaster Ozpin, who had decided to join the Courier in his observing of the city below.

"Yeah... there's nothing like this back on earth… at least, not anymore."

The young courier did not notice the grey haired headmasters questioning look, his gaze being focused on the innumerable lights below. Before Ozpin could voice his curiosity, Frost interjected with his own comment.

"Just wait until you see Vacuo. It blows Vale straight out of the water! No offense headmaster," the huntsman stated with an arm behind his head

"Again Mr. Frost… some taken," the Headmaster responded with a slight grin, the young huntsman having distracted the Headmaster from his curiosity.

"But still, I'm honestly somewhat envious of you Caleb."

"Why's that?"

"You get to go to Vacuo. I have to deal with the Council of Vale. May the first guide me," Frost said with a grimace.

"You have all of my sympathy Mr. Frost," Ozpin replied with a chuckle.

"Council?" the Courier asked. The term sounded familiar to him, but he couldn't quite remember where he heard it before. The other men simply stared at the Courier for a moment before Frost replied.

"The Council of Vale," he said. "Guess you don't have Councils where you're from. Probably have some better form of government than a bunch of old men arguing and pointing fingers all day."

 _It'd be better that he didn't know._ The Courier thought to himself.

"Maybe some sort of meritocracy where the best individuals of all fields and careers represent each individual's group's needs in a form of representative government. Maybe you have a system of government in which every individual has an equal say in the affairs of your nation… Or maybe you solve political disputes with mud wrestling- hell, I'd support a government like that."

"Frost," Ozpin facepalmed.

"Oh right, the Council," Frost said while sporting a rather embarrassed grin. "As you can probably tell, the councils are what govern the Four Kingdoms. Council members are all elected officials and they are all assholes of the highest degree. Dealing directly with the Council for more than five minutes is cause enough for doctors to prescribe you with anti-anxiety drugs. And now I have to go talk to them and explain how their hard-taxed money got wasted because of a security breach and how it's all my fault, and how now I have to remain in their service until I'm five hundred and ten years old, which is the number of years it will take for me to pay for a Mark-Two Dust-Powered Electrical Wall, the most expensive security system that taxpayers couldn't afford. All because I didn't see the attack coming."

"Uh… sorry you have to deal with the government?" The Courier responded with what he hoped was a reassuring tone.

"Eh, not your fault. 'Sides, I'll probably just have to investigate into who exactly was behind this little stunt, something I was planning on doing anyway."

"Wait, won't the Council want to talk to me as well?" the Courier asked.

"Nah. For one thing, you weren't on their payroll, second, as far as they'll know, you're just some traveler from some off-the-grid settlement in southern Vale… Actually, come to think of it, you'd fit in there. Handymen are like kings there, at least as long as the settlements don't go dark. You might want to consider that as a backup plan if everything heads south."

"I will definitely keep that in mind," the Courier responded with a smile. "I'm guessing that's my cover story."

"I would suggest mixing in a pound of truth," Ozpin interjected. "It would make things more believable."

The three gazed out of the window at the descending horizon, buildings in the distance rising closer to their line of sight. The Courier watched as they approached a large raised port, massive and bright lights leading the airship towards it while blinding out the night sky. The three only left the room and walked towards the bow of the airship, the Courier donning his helmet as they walked through the door.

The crowd in the airship sounded tired but ultimately relieved, happy to be back to civilization. This was dually pleasing for the Courier, as not only were the people finally safe, but the joy from arriving at Vale meant they were too distracted to try and question him anymore. He smiled as people were too busy in their own conversations to try and ask him questions like they had been for almost the entire airship ride. The Courier couldn't ask for anything better than peace.

The ship took several minutes to land, and when the door finally opened it was like watching water burst through a dam. The people surged from the airship to get into the open-air port, bumping past the calmer huntsmen and courier in their effort to get into the safe confines of the walled city. Screams of joy and frustration echoed throughout the metal frame of the ship, deafening any conversation even slightly quieter than a shout. Grabbing the straps of his bags, the Courier watched as police officers with their weapons holstered received the refugees, directing them to various busses and trucks that were parked in the street down the stairs. He thanked whatever deity listened that the Legion didn't exist here, before getting lost in worrisome thoughts. He stopped being lost in thought when Frost shook his shoulder.

"You okay?" Frost asked, concern etched on his face.

"Hoping no one attacks the refugee camp."

"Guess you don't have much faith in the fine donut-dippers of this city." Frost replied with a smirk. One of the officers overheard him and gave a rather sad sigh.

"What? No… I was at a refugee camp when it was attacked once. There were several casualties and two fatalities, but it could've been much worse. I'm worried that the group that was behind the attack might try again with the refugee camp." The Courier responded as they began to follow the two headmasters, who themselves were also lost in a conversation. It seemed to be rather serious, as Lyons had lost that mirthful grin he had been sporting.

"If it's grimm you're worried about, you have nothing to fear." Frost said, bringing the Courier's attention back towards him. "The walls here have held for centuries, and are much sturdier than the defense system back at Roaring Oaks. I doubt a single grimm could get past them, so trying to draw them towards the camp would be pointless. Though if you're worried more about terrorists, I understand; crimes have been increasing lately, but especially in Vale. Torchwick's gang's been particularly busy with his various dust heists."

"Who?" the Courier asked.

"A notorious and dangerous criminal, who has stolen thousands if not over a million Lien in dust," Frost responded before sighing. "Sadly, he's probably going to take advantage of the police being dispatched here in order to commit another robbery."

" _Has_ taken advantage Mr. Frost," Ozpin interjected as the two caught up to the headmasters, who had been leading the others towards an elevator in a direction parallel to the street that ran in front of the port. The Courier was grateful for this as he saw flashing cameras from the road.

"What!" Frost exclaimed.

"Glynda has just informed me that I'm needed at the Police Station in the commercial district. Torchwick has robbed yet another Dust store. However, from what I can tell, the robbery hit a snag in the form of a young girl." Ozpin calmly replied.

"A young girl?" Frost asked.

"How she stopped the robbery is something I am curious about. Fighting off someone like Torchwick takes some impressive skills. Sorry, but I need to ensure Glynda does not chew this young girl's head off."

"She always was a stickler for the rules Oz, I don't know how you deal with her," Lyons said as he patted the man on the shoulder. The others bid him a farewell and watched as he left down the street towards the commercial district. The others walked in the opposite direction of the street, placing distance between them and the airship port before turning at the second intersection.

"I should probably go as well," Frost said looking rather downcast. "I need to speak to the council as soon as possible. I hope to see you again Caleb." Frost offered his right hand after the farewell, which the Courier grabbed and shook firmly once.

"Hope to see you as well, Jacob," the Courier responded, smiling under his helmet. Frost smirked before crossing the street and continuing in the direction they were previously headed. The Courier looked at the old headmaster in silence waiting for him to explain what the two would be doing now that half their party had left for their own devices. The old headmaster chuckled good naturedly before speaking.

"Mr. Caleb, you are a rather taciturn fellow sometimes. It makes it difficult to know exactly what you want when you neither speak nor show your face." The headmaster said as he began walking down the sidewalk. A large highway structure hid the night sky when they passed under it, the sounds of rushing cars coming from beyond the concrete. The Courier struggled pry his eyes and ears from the intact structure to respond to the headmaster.

"Sorry, I just want to make sure of something. You said yesterday that we would be taking a train to a place called Vacuo right? As you can probably tell, I'm very unfamiliar with the Geography of Remnant. Is Vacuo a city or a country?"

Lyons smiled and nodded as the Courier caught up to his side "Vacuo is the name of the kingdom and its capital that lies to the west, same as how 'Vale' refers to both this city and the nation it exists within. It's connected by land to the kingdom of Vale, and thus enjoys a close relation with it both geographically and politically. It is for this reason why we are traveling by train rather than airship or boat, as it is far quicker than either method."

"Is there anything I should know before I get there?" The Courier asked.

"I hope you don't hate deserts," the headmaster responded in a joking manner.

The Courier's response was to chuckle for about a straight minute. The Courier removed his helmet and wiped the tear on his right eye. He continued chuckling sporadically as they walked towards what the Courier assumed to be a train station.

"Sorry, but if I hated deserts I would've never left the Strip," the Courier said between breaths. He finally stopped laughing as they entered the station. The Courier wandered and looked at the various sights in the rather spacious train station, while Headmaster Lyons acquired their means of transportation. The station itself was lit heavily with white light, and it highlighted the silver walls and pillars that held up the ceiling. Many sheet thin screens along the walls broadcasted the late night news station for passengers waiting for their trains to arrive. Along one wall there was a thin window where holographic words, contrasting the night sky beyond the window, gave details on the incoming and outgoing trains. Most of the trains had destinations within the large city, but a few of them were heading towards either Vacuo or some other city he's never heard of.

He looked around at the other passengers, some of whom gave him worried glances. His only response was to smile weakly now that his face could be seen and wave. Some of the passengers appeared as though they were dead, having passed out on the metal benches that were separated by potted foliage. Half of those passed out looked like they had either just got off what must have been tiring work, with their ties loosened and clothes in disarray, while others appeared to have lost consciousness due to a rather high concentration of ethanol in their bloodstream as judged by their aroma. The ones who weren't passed out had rolling bags and suitcases by their feet, more than likely waiting for a train with a much farther destination than the other side of the city. His conjectures were interrupted by Lyon's returning and motioning for him to follow after.

"Since I already have a two way ticket, I only needed to purchase a one way ticket. Since none of us have really had the chance to, the bedroom you'll be staying will be like mine, and have a shower. Mr. Caleb… I would highly suggest you take advantage of it," Lyons commented dryly. The courier's eyes widened before he spoke, briefly stopping when he reached the top of the stairs.

"That's… trains with showers? We really don't have things like that back home… well… not anymore." The statement surprised Lyons, and he began ponder the state of the Courier's world. His thoughts, however, were interrupted by the Courier's next question.

"That sounds much too fancy for my budget. How much was the ticket?"

"With my huntsman's discount… only seventy five lien," the headmaster responded amicably as they walked across a walkway over the many train tracks.

"I…would you accept ammo as payment? I don't think you'd take caps as p-"

"Mr. Caleb! You are being accepted as a potential student to my Academy! I would not have my students stranded on another continent!" Lyons responded in an irate tone.

"I didn't mean to imply sir, I just prefer paying my debts," The Courier responded apologetically. Lyon's sighed.

"Well, you don't owe me a single Lien if that's what you're trying to imply," he said before grinning. "Though I do understand where you come from Mr. Caleb. I believe this is our train."

The Courier looked at the only train that was stopped next to the minute tiled floor that lied at the bottom of the steel stairs. It was long and chrome, unlike the boxcar freight and antiquated steel passenger trains that were beginning to see use again in the west. The silver train looked sleek, like the trains that must have existed before the war, and stood at a height of at least two stories. Tired passengers were being directed by a Conductor onto the train, some of whom could barely carry their luggage onto the vehicle. A few of the passengers had strange weapons on their backs or waists, and the Courier assumed they must be huntsmen and huntresses on their way to some job in Vacuo. The Conductor looked at the headmaster and courier and held out his hands in request for their tickets. He tore off part of the tickets and gave them back.

"Your rooms will be in the fourth car down from here," he said as he pointed behind him, "room numbers forty-five and forty-six. We will be departing in twenty minutes, so please hurry in."

The two walked down and stepped into the car, lit above by amber lights. The interior had some sort of wood finishing, contrasting with the chrome exterior. The two counted the rooms down the soft carpeted hallway until they came across their rooms. Tired from dealing with the dozens of refugees on the airship, and frustrated from the long period in which his feet weren't near the ground, the Courier gave a brief farewell to the headmaster before entering his room for the next day.

 _This room is… actually bigger than I thought it would be._ The Courier thought. It measured much smaller than the room he owned in Novac, which, while small, still fulfilled his needs and contained the second most comfortable bed he ever slept on. It would also never compare to the presidential suite in the Lucky 38, which his friends and he all considered home until they all amicably went their separate ways two months back. Still, it appeared to be much more comfortable than the random brick and mortar ruined building off the side of the road he often turned into a makeshift campsite while travelling eastward.

The room, unlike the hallway, contained little wood finishing, and in the Courier's honest opinion reminded him of a hospital, albeit with an aroma of pine needles rather than antiseptic. The walls were white, and there was some side room to his left, more than likely the restroom. To his right sat what appeared to be a long couch, but had a single large cushion rather than two or four. Making his way past the couch, he noticed some sort of long compartment over the couch. Setting his belongings near the window in the back of the room, the Courier went back to examining the couch. He noticed that the couch could be pulled out and assumed that it turned into a bed. This assumption proved true when he tested it, resulting in a rather small bed blocking the exit. Opening the cabinet above the bed, he chuckled when he found a second bed.

 _Guess Headmaster Lyons didn't want to share a room, though I really don't deserve something as nice as this,_ the Courier thought to himself as he put the second bed back. Sighing, he began preparing for the luxury of a warm shower. Reaching into the interior of the Pip-Boy, he found and pulled on the small release latch. The Pip-Boy whirred as the auto locks disengaged, and the device slipped around his wrist. Taking care not to drop it, even though the thing went unscathed after being hit by shrapnel from a rocket, he slipped it off his wrist and placed it on the bed. After ensuring the valuable device would stay safe he took off his duster, armor and pants, leaving him covered by only his underclothes, the red cowboy scarf, and the gauze that hid his entire right arm.

Entering the bathroom the Courier felt his eyes squint in surprise at just how small the restroom was. The toilet took up half of the bathroom and the shower was merely a movable nozzle connected by a long tube to the water supply. Next to the showerhead was a mirror that was placed above a sink. The Courier reached for one of the towels on the rack, finding one long enough to cover his body. Looking in the mirror briefly he looked at the face he rarely saw. It was really the only part he could really see without wincing too much, as it was the least scarred part of his body.

The dull blue eyes in the mirror matched his gaze and appeared to be studying the Courier as he did the same to his reflection. His face was lightly tanned like most of his body, but had begun to pale under the thick clothing and armor he had been wearing. Five large scars covered his face, and took all of the attention off of the rest of his rather unkempt and messy appearance. There was of course the smallest of the five, a chip over the right side of his lips, incomparable to the giant long machete gash that went from above his left eyebrow to under the left side of his lip. That scar crossed the path of another, creating a sort of 'X' shape over his left eye. Lastly, the two circular scars underneath his short oil colored hair identified him to most people as "the" courier who was shot twice in the head in Goodsprings and left for dead. Those particular scars ensured he was always recognized in the Mojave, especially by passing troopers.

The Courier looked away after placing the towel over the mirror, tucking the corners of the towel on the corners of the mirror. He then took off his underclothes and the gauze protecting his right arm, dropping them just outside the bathroom door.

 _You know, you may need help if you can't even look at anything below your neck without feeling disgust_ , he thought to himself, groaning before he began his shower.

* * *

The Courier woke up violently, reaching for his own neck with his right hand. He closed his bugged eyes in relief when he found his scarf in the same place he tied it after his shower. The only sounds he could hear were the sounds of the train's wheels grinding on the tracks below and his own hyperventilating. Plopping back onto the bed he began to slow his breathing and attempted to fall back to sleep hoping vainly that it wouldn't be another damned nightmare. It just had to be his rotten luck that he couldn't sleep at all on the airship ride back, instead walking about the ship and helping deal with whatever problems people had and inadvertently opening himself to their questions. Because of this, his subsequent bout of sleeping contained extended stages of rapid eye movement. This was something he could have done without. Looking to his back he found light passing through the blinds. Checking the time on his Pip-Boy he was surprised to see he slept for over half a day, having slept past noon.

The Courier quickly dressed himself in his armor, but left the helmet off now that he was away from the colonists. After setting the bed back to its original position he left the room, locking the door behind him. He found the train was rather stable when it moved, unlike the trains he rode back in the NCR which helped cut down travel time on many of his journeys. Walking past the Headmaster's room he tried listening to see if he had woken up before continuing after hearing nothing. From what he could gather towards the back of the train there was some sort of cafe, and he figured the old headmaster might be there eating.

He passed through several cars before finding Headmaster Lyons sitting on some bench near the window. It appeared as though they had arrived in Vacuo overnight, and the Courier was rather pleased at what he assumed to be the trains expediency. To his left he found himself staring out at a long beach, with clear unpolluted and unirradiated water stretching out towards the horizon. Taking a seat next to the headmaster he gazed out at the passing desert, massive sand dunes overlapping the distant horizon. The sun was directly overhead, meaning the shade was minimal and the entirety of the desert before him appeared to reflect what light there was.

"You came at a good time Mr. Caleb. This erg is only a miniscule part of the Avarus Rex, and is often missed by travelers," Headmaster Lyons said, leaning back into his seat.

"Yeah, I've only seen a place like this once before, and it was actually from a distance," the Courier responded. "The deserts I've wandered had actual vegetation, though rather sparse. Most the deserts I walked were basins composed of dirt and rock." He paused for a moment before speaking up. "So, how far exactly are we from Vacuo, the city I mean?"

"Tired of travelling are we?"

"Not really. Kind of hard to be a courier if you don't have some sense of wanderlust. Just eager to see where I'll be staying for the next few years," the Courier replied.

"We're about twenty minutes from the city, I was actually planning on knocking on your door when we arrived at the city, seeing as neither of us really got the rest we needed, but it seems you had different plans."

The two stared out the window at the passing sands, watching as the erg eventually gave way to rocky outcroppings familiar to the Courier, before even that faded to a flat plane covered in shrubs. In the distance he saw the top of a mountain range, rocky peaks contrasting with the canopy that lay at the lower elevations. He lost track of how long he sat there staring into the desert before he was tapped on the shoulder by Lyons, and pointed towards his right.

The Courier gaped, and only stopped when they passed through a small wall. On the ground were rows upon rows of corn, wheat, and other crops, being harvested by various large machines. Some ranch style houses could be seen in the distance, most of which were very wide, and surrounded by numerous smaller structures. However the Couriers eyes were glued to the plateau in the distance, steel towers rising from the top towards the clouds. Like Vale he could make out different districts, with smaller buildings covering the outermost edge of the plateau, and surrounding the skyscrapers and towers that stood in the center, giving the city a mountainous appearance. Wrapping around counterclockwise from the bottom of the plateau were highways that led to the towering city.

The Courier shook his head and focused as the train approached the plateau, standing up as the train began to rise on the counterclockwise track towards the top. Walking back towards his cabin, the courier briefly looked out of the other window at the rising spinning world below him, getting a good view of both the farmland and the savannah that surrounded the farmland. It took him a few minutes to get back to his room, and by the time he was able to grab all of his belongings and left the room for the last time, the train had arrived in the city.

The Courier followed the headmaster out of the train and through the crowded open air train station. There were a dozen trains going to a dozen locations each, connecting the distant parts of the city in the sky. He noticed that many of the people would not be out of place in the Mojave, with either thick light colored work clothes to protect them from the sand or thin clothes to allow for the skin to breathe. The air was thick with the stench of sweat and the calamity of blaring whistles.

 _The trains here must not run on coal: can't smell the putrid stench of it choking the air_ , the Courier thought to himself. The two walked across a catwalk that overlapped the various departing trains, before descending the stairs at the end. The passengers at the particular station all looked to be the same age of the Courier and were clothed in a variety of garbs both colorful and seemingly practical. At this the headmaster turned around to face the Courier with an apologetic grin.

"Mr. Caleb, I have faith that you will few troubles during the initiation, and that you will become a welcome student at Shade Academy for the next four years. It is because of these beliefs that I must apologize, as while I enjoy your company I must ride with the new hires in the front car of the soon to be arriving train" Lyons said, confusing the Courier. "Though truly, my reason for leaving is that I believe if you are to become a respected huntsman, you must first acquaint yourself with your brethren in arms."

"... You want me … to talk to people my age… don't you?" the Courier said, panic hidden by a polite tone.

"... Yes," the headmaster answered bluntly. "Goodbye Mr. Caleb. I do hope you listen to the welcoming speech, I spent good hours finishing on our long journey here." The headmaster then nodded his head before passing by the Courier, who now noticed the curious gaze of a few of the other teenagers.

… _Crap_ , the Courier thought as he approached the other students waiting, relaxing when the ones who were looking at either him or his luggage decided to return to their own. He walked through the crowd giving glances to the various students, some of whom returned his gaze. He stopped in his tracks when he saw a girl with indigo hair and a crossbow who appeared to be fighting the urge to punch the guy trying-and failing-to flirt with her.

"Like your coat," the Courier said as he looked at the arm of the coat that went down to her waist. He gave nod and a friendly smile, grabbing the inner edges of his duster and holding them out briefly. She looked at him with surprised eyes before giving him an amused half smile and chuckled. Her response caused the man next to her to give the Courier a glare, which was replaced with fear when he saw the scars on his face.

"Dusters are pretty cool too," she said as the flirt retreated, tail between his legs.

 _Wait. Did that guy have a tail,_ the Courier thought as he watched the teen leave. He then calmly rejected the notion, assuming it was all some sort of stress induced hallucination. He nodded a farewell and continued walking through the crowd before eventually finding a spot relatively clear of people near a pillar. He placed his bags down gently before leaning back into the pillars, trying to find some peace amongst the calamity of the station. He managed to close his eyes for a moment, breathing in the heavy human vapors and reminding him of where exactly his path was leading him. He opened his eyes to find a black to grey haired, tanned youth with a grey to purple sleeveless top. His right hand was outstretched and held a Stealth Boy in it.

"This fell out of your bag," he said. The Courier carefully took the device, thanking him before placing it back in his makeshift backpack. He then covered the hole in the bag with a strip of duct tape, causing the teen in front of him to chuckle.

"Ah, if you can't get a new one, fix the old one with duct tape. Love it!"

"Duct tape has saved my life on multiple occasions," the Courier responded.

"Same here," the teen said with a grin, before holding his hand out. "What's your name?"

"Caleb," the Courier replied, shaking the youth's hand, "just Caleb."

"Not keen on sharing your last name huh?" The teen asked with a frown.

"... I'd rather not talk about it actually," the Courier responded with a sideward glance.

"Ah! Didn't mean anything by it Caleb. I'm Brawnz Ni."

"Do you have a siblings named Iron and Steel?" the Courier said chuckling before going wide eyed. "Crap! Sorry, I-"

"Oh!" Brawnz exclaimed. "You've met my sisters?"

"Sorry, it was… it was a joke."

"... Joke?" Brawnz asked. "Jeez man, you don't have be sorry about that; I've heard worse. Usually when people I meet find out I have sisters, they joke about how they must be named Silver and Gold. I don't know how you guessed correctly but color me impressed **and** curious."

"Well," the Courier explained, "It all boils down to- oh the train is here." The Courier pointed to the train arriving behind Brawnz, driving past and not stopping until it reached a dead end. A few seconds after the train arrived, the doors opened and the students began to pile inside. The Courier, to his relief found there were few enough people that he could find a seat, but was slightly worried as to why there was no conductor asking for tickets.

"Must be your first time here," Brawnz said as he sat down across the Courier, grabbing the Couriers attention. "This line only exists between Shade and Vacuo. It's free for Huntsmen in training like us, so you don't need to worry about not having a ticket. Now, what were you saying before?"

"Oh, it all has to do with the three stages of civilization. It generally goes: stone-bronze-iron right? Since weapons went from bronze to iron and then lastly to steel, and your name is Brawnz, I just sort of made the connection," the Courier finished. Brawnz sat there in silence, staring at the Courier with judging eyes. He only spoke up after the train began to depart.

"You assume my sisters are named after the good stuff, and not the pretty stuff. I like the way you think, Caleb," he said with a grin. The grin turned into a curious frown however when he spoke up again. "Now that that's out of the way, I've been wondering, how exactly did you get those scars on your head? They look like bullet holes."

"Hey! I've been wondering the same thing!" interjected a third voice. The Courier turned to find a smiling young man that resembled what Ulysses might have looked like if he was seventeen. "I saw you pass by and all I could think was, 'Holy Dust on a shingle! Those look like they hurt!' Are they really bullet scars?"

"Heh. My stories are pretty farfetched and boring," the Courier said. "I doubt you'd believe them, let alone find them interesting."

The two gave the Courier a knowing look, and crossed their arms over their chest as if saying "try us".

"I got shot twice in the head with a nine millimeter during a botched delivery job," the Courier said bluntly, hoping it would sate the two curious students.

"Aww! Come on dude!" the third boy exclaimed as he moved to the seat to the left of Brawnz.

"Yeah man, give the whole story," Brawnz chipped in. "Getting shot in the head twice and living in and of itself is impressive, but I want to know why you were shot in the head."

"It's really long," the Courier responded.

"I don't know if you haven't noticed," Brawnz said, pointing towards the front of the train "but we have plenty of time."

"Don't say I didn't warn you," the Courier sighed out. "It all started when I was hired to deliver a platinum poker chip…"

* * *

"And the guy said to me 'Sorry you got twisted up in this scene,'" the Courier spoke, his voice trying to mimic a smugness unbefitting of the young man. "'From where you're kneeling, it must seem like an 18-carat run of bad luck. Truth is... the game was rigged from the start.' Then *BLAM* he shot me in the head, knocking me out! The bullet actually slowed down enough to stop just past the skull, which was a lucky break. However he must have heard me breathe, because when I woke up in Doc Mitchell's-the man who patched me up-I had two scars on my forehead, meaning he shot me while I was still on the ground. According to the doc though, the bullet only went through a small portion of my frontal lobe, and the damage was in his words 'enough to hurt, but not enough to harm'. Apparently, he didn't even step forward because the angle was acute enough that the doc found the grey matter between the bullet path and my skull to be only an eighth of an inch in length."

The Courier stopped spinning his tale and looked at the two boys staring at him, surprisingly interested. Brawnz had leaned back into his seat, with his arms behind his head acting as a pillow. However, despite such a position implying boredom, his eyes were wide and awake throughout the story, indication this interest. The other student did the exact opposite with his body, sitting forward in his seat excitedly throughout the story. The Courier also noticed, to his dismay, that some of the other students had listened in to portions, as they had stopped their own conversations when the Courier talked about being ambushed by Benny and his Great Khan lackeys.

"You seriously thought something like that would be boring?" the boy to the left of Brawnz asked. "I can see it being outlandish-though do understand: I do believe you. But boring? You must have a weird sense of excitement. Anyways, what happened afterwards?"

"I spent the next two weeks tracking him down to get my package back."

"Wait," Brawnz said with a chuckle as he leaned forward. "You followed him for two weeks, just to finish a delivery?"

"I don't like leaving jobs unfinished. I wouldn't be as decent a courier as I was if I did otherwise."

"You are one dedicated mailman you know that?" the other teen said. "Remind me to hire you when I need something delivered."

The three teens laughed until the train stopped and the doors opened, causing them all to yelp. They gathered what belongings they had and exited the train. The Courier blinked when he saw the academy, being further and further impressed by the creations of this new world.

In the center of the campus was a tall domed tower, with a golden light coming from the room just under it. Behind the tower, Airships could be seen departing and arriving, likely dropping off more students. Surrounding the central tower at the base were flat roofed, sand colored buildings varying from just over two stories to over four stories high. The buildings were spread amongst the campus, but were often close to one another, and most had numerous windows. The ones farthest from the center had several antenna on their roofs, and many of the windows had curtains instead of blinds. Further towards the center, the buildings became shorter, with marble walkways passing under horseshoe tunnels and into a central courtyard.

The Courier followed the other two, preferring the company of people he was at least passingly familiar with, before listening to the various hologram screens that began to appear on the sides of the buildings. However, he focused so much on the campus that he really only heard the words "welcome", "center", and "speech" clearly. When the three students entered the courtyard, they were rather startled when to find it filled with must have been over two hundred students. The Courier assumed many of them to be in their second year, as they looked to be older than the rest by at least a year or so. There was chattering amongst the students, which the Courier tuned out as he looked at the tower.

The tower easily stood about three quarters as tall as the Lucky 38, but looked much more impressive than the old worn out casino. Covered walkways led from the buildings that surrounded the courtyard to the tower, with ancient wooden doors blocking the interior from being seen. The Courier continued to stare at the light emanating from the top until he heard the sounds of a microphone being tapped through the speakers that have been set up. Headmaster Lyons stood behind the microphone on the stage situated in front of the tower, everything above his waistline visible to the myriad students congregated in the courtyard. The professors of the academy stood in a line behind him, and stiffened to attention when he began to speak.

"I know you all must be rather tired from your trip, and I would like to make this speech as brief as possible. You have all traveled here for reasons as varied as the faces you wear. However, you will find we have but one purpose for you: to become the one and only true wall that society has against the darkness. There is a universal truth to becoming a respectable huntsman or huntress, and that it requires a high degree of companionship, conviction, but most importantly, sacrifice. If you cannot demonstrate any of these qualities, you are not fit to even hold your weapon with any sort of pride. Tomorrow you will face the initiation, and your true character will be unmasked for all the world."

Lyons ducked his head for a moment with a frown before speaking again. "That is all. Incoming first year's will be sleeping in the atrium. Get a restful night, because you **will** need it for tomorrow."

With that the Headmaster retreated into his tower followed by most of the faculty, a few professors staying behind to usher the students towards the atrium. Before they entered the atrium, the third teen besides the Courier and Brawnz spoke up.

"Hey! I never got your names!"

"I'm Brawnz Ni."

"I'm Caleb," the Courier responded.

"Just Caleb," Brawnz interjected with a grin, getting a chuckle out of the third teen.

"Guess you're not a last name kind of person. Well, I'm Roy Stallion, sorry I didn't ask for you guys' names earlier. "

The other two shrugged in response before they entered the atrium, its walls wide enough to allow for all of the first years to lie in and still be comfortable. The ceiling was covered in some sort of rose colored felt, with lights provided by high hanging chandeliers. When they finished entering the atrium a professor stopped them, directing them towards the right side of the room. It took little time for them to understand why as they watched various males unroll bedrolls to claim spaces next to their friends or close to the center which divided them from the female students. After searching for a good two minutes they found a spot near the corner, unrolling the sleeping bags that they were carrying. After plopping down, they spent almost five minutes in silence before Roy spoke up.

"So… anybody got a deck of cards?"

The Courier smiled as he unzipped one of the duffel bags.

* * *

 **AN:** **Sorry it took so long. I actually worked practically all of last night to get this finished by Christmas Day, so I might need coffee soon.**

 **So… say hello to the only canon characters that will be appearing in this fiction for a while, the members of team BRNZ and NDGO, though only three have really appeared.**

 **As said before by a more coherent me: please leave comments or constructive criticism.**


	4. Bloody Sands

**AN: So, I updated twice in the time span of one month. New record! That's my New Year's Resolution by the way: Update more frequently.**

* * *

 _-October 2, 2281_

 _It is often a challenge to follow the roads that have been laid before us through a combination of coincidences and our own personal decisions. Often do I spend hours between waking and moving simply questioning why as people we follow our paths until their end, despite how leaving them would be in our best interest. These thoughts about humanity do not leave my mind until I find myself drifting off at early hours, thinking of why we continue trying to live when our world has been scorched by weapons of cruel design. Still, it is probably for the best that we continue moving forward despite the harm we have enacted on the world, as it is simple to see that we have learned at least a few lessons from our crimes. It is far better to continue and attempt to rebuild and remain than it is to simply give in to the wasted world which we made, as even the smallest step forward is infinitely greater than standing still._

 **Chapter 4: Bloody Sands**

There are few things in the wasteland which make life simple and easy for those attempting to survive the horrors created by the combination of atomic fire, fallout, and generally inhumane experiments supported by a government long since corrupted into what every wastelander worth their guns would know as the Enclave. Most if not all wastelanders would categorize the majority of their life as a long string of partaking in a single activity: not dying. For this reason, the concept of meeting an incompetent wastelander is considered an oxymoron to both wastelanders and those whom live a sedentary yet far less lethal lifestyle within the borders of rebuilt civilization, as "meeting" one would imply that they still count themselves amongst the living. Due to this conditioning by the wastes, which, for the most part, only takes in those who travel them extensively, wastelanders have a very wide view of survival and survival techniques and, combined with a wallet of caps numbering in the low triple digits, an extremely liberal view of what constitutes as a luxury.

"This is one of the greatest breakfasts I've ever had," the Courier said after quickly swallowing the last bit of sausage on his plate.

Never let it be said that the Courier hated food. The Courier, like all sane human beings, enjoys partaking eating meals, the majority of which he prepared himself while sitting next alongside a recently stoked, makeshift campfire. One does not survive the wasteland without knowing how to detoxify raw gecko meat via a heavy application of high temperature. When he had heard about the free breakfast, he had ended up dragging a still slumbering Roy behind him by the feet, just so they wouldn't miss out on such a rare opportunity as free food. When they arrived at the cafeteria the Courier had grabbed a plate but only filled it slightly, having much less food than the others he had come with. However, he had finished eating what meager portions he had rather quickly.

"... When did you last eat?" Brawnz asked, concern lining his voice.

"Four days ago… give or take a few hours," the Courier responded quickly, syrup dripping down his chin. He remembered he ate the day before his Transportalponder failed, and that the incident involving the colony occurred just three days prior. He looked up when he heard a utensil fall onto a plate, clattering against the ceramic edge. Brawnz and Roy stared at the Courier with shocked expressions. Brawnz had been the one to drop his fork, while Roy had a syrup coated cut of flapjack in front of his gaping mouth. The Courier quickly tried to remedy what must be terrifying to people not used to life out in the wastes.

"Ah, don't worry! I'm used to it!"

Their expressions only strengthened, Brawnz adopted a rather angry expression before cooling himself. The Courier mentally berated himself, knowing they'd start asking questions.

"Please don't worry. I've just been too busy to eat the past few days. An… incident happened"

"Let me guess: Long story?" Roy replied, putting his fork down, exasperation clearly written on his face.

"Sorry."

"One of these days, I'm going to get your life story, write it down, and become a rich author. I swear on the First," Roy wryly responded, not noticing the Courier's brief look of panic.

"Caleb, seriously, go grab another plate right now," Brawnz ordered, not catching the brief flash of tension in the Courier's posture, rather focusing on the Courier's closed eyes and sigh. The Courier opened his eyes and looked directly into Brawnz's before he responded.

"I'm actually pretty full, anymore and I might vomit during the initiation. I'll eat when I get back."

"If you can get back on such little fuel."

The three looked at the new voice, the Courier giving a welcoming smile when he saw who it was. The girl with the longcoat stood behind the chair next to Roy, her breakfast tray already on the table. Taking a seat, she spoke up again.

"If what you were saying was true, _Caleb_ , you should probably eat another helping."

"It's fine. I've been… I can work on such a small amount of food. If I gorge myself, I'll probably just vomit it up during initiation. Besides, it's bad to eat too much after not eating for a while anyway."

She looked back with a mixture of concern and resignation. She shook her head a couple of times before she dug into her meal. The others quickly started discussing their own matters, while the Courier stared around the room. The arched windows sat between the beige stone that the ancient walls were made of. The room itself was lit by multiple chandeliers, which had electrical wires running from them, a combination of the practical nature of the modern age with the aesthetics of days gone by.

" _To all incoming first year students: retrieve your arms from your assigned lockers and report to the skyport in half an hour. That is all"_

The intercom buzzed for a second after the announcement before going silent. The conversations of the room became mobile as the sounds of chairs being moved and trays being dropped off filled in the silence. The four students stood up and made their way towards the locker room, dropping off their trays before leaving the cafeteria.

It took them a few minutes to reach the locker rooms, but they eventually reached the white walled room, the dull roar of a dozen incomprehensible conversations rebounding off the walls and floor. There was a hint of teenage sweat amongst the lemon scented room, giving it a rather odd overall odor, but the Courier had experienced worse. Splitting up, the four went towards their designated lockers, and began the arduous process of preparing their weapons.

The Courier quickly turned the dial on his locker to the numbers in its sequence opening the locker to reveal it's packed to the brim nature. He heard a couple students curse at the sheer amount of weapons and ammunition in the locker. Taking care not to cause an avalanche the Courier picked out the weapons he would carry, along with ammunition. Figuring that he would be meeting with others, he only decided to pack one energy weapon, that being his Gauss Rifle. He then armed himself with the weapons he always carried with him during outings: his hunting shotgun, his Ranger Sequoia, A Light Shining in the Darkness, and his combat knife, which he attached to the front of his armor. Lastly, after a minute or so of debate he took the rifle of Randall Clark, rather than arm himself with the COS rifle or the LAER. He placed the shotgun on the holster he kept on the lower back of his combat armor, just below where he placed the rifle. Both were angled so they wouldn't easily fall out, with hard leather wrapping around the trigger guards and the metal above them. He then holstered the two pistols to his legs, before slinging the Gauss Rifle over his arm and onto his back, loose enough for him to quickly arm himself in a pinch.

After packing the necessary ammo, the Courier grabbed a few stimpacks and a single doctor's bag. He closed the locker and turned, only to find himself facing a rather small grey haired girl who stared at him with eyes filled with a mixture of fear and discernment. She took off when she realized he noticed her, ears twitching as she made her exit.

 _I think I've used one too many Stealth Boys_ , the Courier thought to himself, rubbing his head as he walked towards the exit. The three people he knew met him near the exit, and Roy huffed humorously.

"How can you even walk with that many guns?" Brawnz asked incredulously.

"Believe it or not, I consider myself lightly armed right now."

"What does that make us then? Naked?" the girl asked, mockingly covering herself up, a massive grin plastered on her face.

"I… er… I mean for me... not for..." the Courier replied, sighing depressively at the end. The four exited the locker room from the opposite doors to those which they came through, and began their way towards the skyport

"How many weapons do you usually carry?" Brawnz asked as they passed into another hallway, classrooms facing them on both sides.

"Eleven, but I own fourteen."

"By the First!" exclaimed Roy, "Why the hell do you need so many weapons?"

"Sorry if it bothers you," the Courier responded unsure, "I'm used to travelling long distances by myself. I need all sorts of weapons if I'm to survive."

"Whe… Where exactly do you come from?" Brawnz asked.

"Southern Vale," the Courier said without a beat, his lie having been prepared hours in advance.

"That explains it," Roy said, with the others nodding in agreement.

"Are you all from Vacuo?" the Courier asked. Brawnz and the girl nodded.

"I'm from Mistral actually," Roy spoke up. "Wanted to see the world, and Haven's just not my kind of school."

The four of them exited the last hallway, and stepped into the hot summer vacuoan heat. The four covered their eyes from the sun before their eyes adjusted. In front of them stood the skyport, bullheads sitting and waiting as the various pilots and crew made last minute checks on the systems. Several teachers were directing students by name to specific bullheads. The four got in line and waited for their turn.

As they approached the front, the Courier noticed the girl staring at him earlier had continued to do so. When she noticed his gaze, she ran into the bullhead whose wings she had been hiding behind. The Courier again noticed the sharp canine ears and briefly rubbed the side of his head.

"Caleb… er… where's the last name?"

The Courier looked in front of him to find a rather youthful looking man wearing some sort of old and open olive army fatigues, with a patch on the shoulder depicting an encircled white wolf's head looking down.

"Ah, that'd be me," the Courier said, hoping the man wouldn't ask any questions.

"You-... Oh… You're… The bullhead is number thirteen," the man said pointing towards a bullhead down near the edge of the port. The Courier headed towards the bullhead, ignoring the visual hallucination of bighorner horns he saw on the man's head. He nodded his head at the three other students he had met the previous day as he passed them along the way, slightly disappointed that they weren't going to be riding the same bullhead.

When the Courier reached the Bullhead he joined with a small group of no more than five other students, lost in their own excited and concerned conversation. These conversations halted as an elderly brunette woman in an expensive looking suit walked before the row of bullheads.

"Greetings, I am Professor Thena Lyons. Today your skills will be tested in a real combat scenario. If you do not treat this initiation with the caution in warrants, you will perish. You will all be dropped off by these bullheads at random points out in the great Avarus Rex," she said pointing to the various VTOL aircraft. "Your goal will be to simply make it to this group of mesas just two klicks west of the region known as 'Sanguine Valley'." A hologram projector in her hand visualized a bundle of mesas that the students could also see in the distance. Their particular formation was unique and large enough that they could be visualized from afar.

"You may have concerns regarding teams, as the standard procedure for huntsman and huntress training involves being grouped within teams of four. During this year's initiation, we have altered the process _slightly_. Normally, students would be grouped by the professors in the hopes of balancing all members both physically, mentally, and temperamentally. However, this year, the upper level combat schools have all made an agreement to let chance decide the makeup of teams, in accordance with a suggestion from Headmaster Ozpin of Beacon Academy."

There was a quiet murmur amongst the students, with half being worried and the other half being exited. The Courier could only make out bits and pieces of conversations from afar, mostly dealing with how the new system didn't match with what older siblings or parents had spoken of. The conversations died as the woman continued in her explanation.

"As you make your way towards the mesas, you will meet up with fellow students. This year, the first student you come across that has no other partner will become your partner for the next four years," she said ignoring the students' gulps. "Two groups of two will then be partnered to create the teams at the end of initiation. Now, before we begin I must inform you of the… unique circumstances of this year's initiation," she said with a pause. She breathed in and out before continuing. "Due to circumstances, we have an even number of students indivisible by four. Because of this, there will be an odd number of partnered groups. The last group to make it to the mesas will be placed on probation for one whole year, meaning they will have to wait exactly one year to attend Shade Academy. We cannot have teams of a number besides four."

The students did not cry out in fear or begin to loudly panic, instead remaining in a shocked and terrified silence. The silence was only made worse when the professor continued with her explanation.

"To fully test your abilities in a life or death scenario, your progress will not, repeat, **not** be monitored. You will need to be prepared to fight in situations in which reinforcements will not come. In a few minutes the bullheads will take off. Good luck."

After her speech finished, she left for the central tower, leaving the students to wallow in their panic. After about a minute or so, the pilots told them to board, and the Courier reluctantly entered the ship. It didn't take them long for the bullheads to take off and soon the students were flying over the desert at an unknown velocity. The hold was quiet, as the students stared at each other from either side, each leaning on the walls on each side of the single hold of the bullhead. After two minutes the pilot's voice came over the speaker into the hold.

" _Alright we're approaching the site of the first drop off. I'm gonna drop you off one at a time, each one slightly closer to the mesas. The order will be: Kumiho Myeong, Noire Pinot, Caleb, Achilles Yarrow, Mars Delacroix, May Zedong and lastly Gwen Darcy. As hunters, your landing strategy will be of your own design, however it may not be necessary, as you will be partaking in a low velocity, low altitude drop."_

"How high of a drop are we talking," a boy with long red hair asked, rather nervously.

" _Only about fifteen meters."_

 _That gives us only one point seven five seconds before landing, if we have even ground_ , the Courier thought, finishing the math just a few seconds after the distance was mentioned.

" _You have slightly less than two seconds before hitting dirt or, considering we're near a rather wide erg, sand."_

 _Oh hey, I got it right_. The sides of the aircraft began to open not a few moments and the students had to fight the currents of air that lightly passed through the bullhead. Two of the students moved towards the edge.

" _Alright, Myeong, Jump when ready!"_

The girl waited not two seconds before jumping, disappearing into the dirt hills below. The Courier, figuring he would go after the boy made his way towards the edge of the bullhead. He put a reassuring hand on the red haired boy standing on the edge, who quietly thanked the courier before the loudspeaker spoke up.

" _Alright, we've put enough distance between you and Myeong. Pinot, jump when ready!"_

It took the boy considerably longer before he jumped, and he fell with much less dignity than Myeong, screaming briefly before hitting the ground.

"I'm okay!" the others on the bullhead could hear briefly in the distance. The Courier decided to look out the bullhead, to come up with some sort of plan to not break his bones when he hit the ground. When he looked out the open edge it took all of his willpower not to vomit at the quickly passing shrubland. The Courier looked for any area that would break his fall in the brief moments he had before it was his turn to jump.

" _Caleb! When you're ready!"_

The Courier noticed that the ship slowed down slightly, and he quickly sought a solution to his problem before jumping. Noticing a rare patch of soft looking dirt, he took a leap, donning his helmet just before the jump. Air flowed around his body during his brief fall, causing his duster to ride up, his body leaning forward as much as possible as he fell towards the rapidly approaching earth. When his feet hit the earth, his bent legs absorbed the impact and his forward momentum combined with his leaning posture caused his body to roll forward. He rolled twice, feeling the various guns on his back dig into his armor, and he could feel them slightly through the hard metal. When he was finished rolling he looked up to see the bullhead fly off in the direction of the mesas.

Taking his shotgun out, the Courier began his long walk towards the mesas, getting a good look at the desert around him. If he hadn't just ridden a fantasy VTOL from some Academy built on top of a rather medium sized plateau, he would have thought himself somewhere near Vegas. Smiling under his helmet, he felt the hot air of the summer desert through his armor, a familiar heat which had been absent for the eternity since his Transportalponder failed.

 _Heh… Its home._

The Courier began to jog towards the blue tinted mesas that he could see in the distance. From his current position, they appeared to be around twelve kilometers to the west, and it would take all of the students a good while to reach them. The air was dry and hot, but being used to the desert and having less gear than usual, he didn't feel as overwhelmed as he would have otherwise.

The Courier went on for a good ten minutes, getting only marginally closer. In the distance he could hear gunshots, indicating that while his stretch of the dirt hadn't thrown any challenges, others were not as lucky. He felt such luck wouldn't last and brought out his shotgun, hoping to finally try out the dust shells he had been unable to fire back in Roaring Oaks. He then heard three gunshots, a burst from a submachine gun judging its pitch, much closer than the others. Figuring someone else came across some grimm, he began to run towards where the shots came from.

* * *

His vision faded and began to blur, the figures before him becoming mere silhouettes against the beige desert that stood behind them. They had disarmed him, and stood between him and his only chance to fight. His aura reserves were as empty as their souls, and he clutched his stomach with his left hand, holding in the blood seeping from his wounds. His eyes began to water from pain and only a single question could be raised on his lips.

"Why?"

Only one of the dark figures before him approached the other looking nervously over the horizon. Grabbing the injured boy's head, the figure looked into the eyes of the boy.

"I'm sorry, but I can't have my spot taken by some mutt," the figure said flatly, throwing the injured faunus to the ground, dirt clotting on his floppy ears before he caught himself with his right arm. Eyes closed in pain, the faunus did not see the warhammer connect with his right knee, and barely felt it. When he heard his bones shatter from the impact, he could only wince in sympathy out of reflex, before coming to the horrifying realization that those were his bones being broken. Opening his eyes just barely enough, the faunus saw the silhouette of his aggressor walk towards his sitting form, pulling his weapon back for a swing. He could only flinch as the hammer swung forward like a bat, and his body fell to the ground in a heap after the loud crack of metal hitting bone.

The two students stood there a moment, before they continued towards the series of mesas. Neither of them spoke, but the warhammer wielding giant began to clean the red blood off with a rag, while the other looked at his submachine gun if it were a mirror. The latter holstered his gun in disgust as they continued on, unaware of the eyes that watched them from a distance.

* * *

The Courier had few worries regarding the other students, figuring they would fight grimm in a similar manner to Jacob Frost, slaughtering them like geckos in a deathclaw nest. However the lack of further gunshots in the direction he had been travelling concerned him, as it likely meant whoever encountered the grimm had either run out of ammo or tripped. The Courier picked up his sprinting pace, his guns dangling back and forth over his body, making a rather bothersome cacophony. The Courier made it to the top of the hill and looked over the desert of shrubs and pits that stretched before him. Somewhat close by were a small group of large beowolves, gathering towards a single location. The Courier crouched down and approached the three, trying to get to a decent enough distance to hit while also giving him breathing room to finish off the rest. He switched his shotgun for the rifle, and began searching their bony bodies for weak spots.

The Courier's gaze wandered down, and he finally noticed what they were surrounding. The first beowolf's head popped open like a shaken Nuka-Cola bottle, drawing the attention of the other two. He fired around five shots into the closest one charging at him, causing the last to trip over its rapidly dissolving corpse. The Courier fired the rest of the magazine into the last beowolf, but it recovered right after the last shot hit. Holding his rifle in his left hand the Courier grabbed the grip of his shotgun as the wounded grimm charged. Drawing it at the last minute, after quickly dodging the creatures strike, he jammed the barrel straight into the creature's gut before firing. A massive hole was formed as soon as the trigger was pulled killing the creature instantaneously. Holstering his shotgun and rifle he sprinted straight towards the collapsed student, relieved that they had yet to tear into his flesh.

The Courier crouched down next to the collapsed student and immediately put his ear to the student's mouth. After determining the student was still breathing, the Courier began looking for where the boy might have been bleeding, though that was much easier said than done. The injured student wore a corslet, with many boiled leather thongs stitched on, and it was covered in red bloodstains. The Courier moved the student's hand from his stomach only to immediately follow by jamming a stimpack straight into the now exposed wounds.

The Courier's brow furrowed under his helmet, and his fists clenched. The student had two bullet holes in his stomach, and he could only guess at why one or more of the students tried killing him. He thanked whatever deity might have been watching over the victim, as he didn't see the inside of the student's intestines. The Courier moved towards the head, as he noticed there was heavy bruising and many lacerations on the face. The student's nose was broken, and there was blood pooling from his head, though the stimpack in the stomach seemed to have slowed it down. The Courier quickly pulled out the doctor's bag. Throwing the medical brace to the side, he pulled out a roll of gauze, as the head was too bony for a stimpack. He began to wrap the gauze around the victim's head, moving his floppy dog ears out of the way.

The Courier paused just briefly, and stoked a finger over the black furry ears. He blinked twice, breathed in, and shrugged before continuing to patch up the dog-eared student, taking care to wrap under and above the dog ears without binding those, as it might cause problems later. The Courier happily noted that the victim's skull appeared to be unbroken, and he found that to be a silver lining. Examining the victim again, he noticed that the lower right leg bent inwards at a slight obtuse angle. He moved to the opposite side of the victim, grabbing the leg brace as well. The Courier straightened the tibia before placing the leg in the brace. Finishing with his work, he stood up and scanned the body one last time, before hearing footsteps behind him.

"Not even a minute of peace huh?" the Courier asked as he turned around, facing seven members of what looked like subspecies of beowolves. They were smaller in stature, like coyotes compared to the normally wolfish beowolves, and they had far less bony protrusions. The smallest ones charged forward recklessly. Pulling out his shotgun he fired off a round into the soft underbellies of the creatures, blasting them apart with each shot. The first three died not even closing half the distance, and the rest looked at their fallen brethren before howling. The Courier reloaded by the time the larger members decided to charge. He shot off the front legs of the two on the right, causing them to trip over their new lack of appendages. As he aimed his shotgun to the left he pulled the trigger as his aim crossed the path of the last two blowing off almost a quarter of their bodies with each pull of the trigger. One lost both of its lungs and the other lost everything above the breast. Looking back towards the two surviving pack members he found one had started to dissolve, the shot having taken more than he thought, and the other was struggling to stand up. He aimed at the bony skull before firing. While the head did not explode like he thought it might, he could see several messy holes and cracks in it shortly before the body began to dissolve.

The Courier reloaded his shotgun and holstered it before turning back to the now stabilized student. He looked up and around, hoping that some sort of medical transport would be coming, only to see the cloudless desert sky stretching in all directions. Sighing briefly, he took out some extra bandages, and wrapped them tightly around the now closed wounds on the victim's abdomen.

He then gently rolled the victim onto his abdomen, making sure the head didn't twist any more than it should. Wrapping his arms around his chest, the Courier gently lifted the unconscious student's body into a standing position while moving backwards, noting he was much taller than himself. Lifting the boy's right wrist, the Courier quickly turned the boy around clockwise, so that their chests were together. Supporting his weight on his left arm, the Courier lifted the victim's left wrist with his right arm, ducking simultaneously, before gently placing him on his shoulders. Wrapping his left arm around his left leg the Courier grabbed the victim's left wrist and stood up, supporting the weight on his back and legs.

After taking the first few steps the Courier saw something glinting in the corner of his eye. Walking over carefully, he noticed that the glinting object was a spear, though it utilized a huntsman's design. The spear was barbed near the tip, smaller spear points angling towards the base. Its head appeared wavelike in its design rather than having straight edges. The weapon would damage whatever it hit more when it was forcibly ripped out than when it first struck. Maneuvering it in his free right hand, the Courier examined for anything, such as etchings or engravings. Finding none the courier slipped it from the base in between his armor and his duster, using the tension and the weight of his passenger to hold the weapon in place.

"I'm guessing the spear's yours huh?" the Courier asked, in a much friendlier and louder tone than normal. When he didn't get a response he simply began walking towards the student's' destination as fast as he could while carrying the larger student. "I know you can't exactly hear me but… I do know how you feel, trust me. Sorry about all this." The Courier's only response was a growling from the side, to which he only responded with a sigh.

 _This is going to be a long walk._

* * *

"You were right, he is like _him_."

Owyn Lyons turned to his wife, frowning. He wasn't exactly pleased with what they watched through the holoscreen in front of them. Racism had always been a sore point to the Lyons family, to the point that even casual racism was almost enough to prevent one's acceptance into Shade. However, what bothered him was that the perpetrators never espoused any prior racism to this day, and had even been observed to show sympathy to the discriminated. He began to wonder if they would have simply left him alone had the probation period never been mentioned. He felt horrible for it, but the two would have to be arrested, as it was still murder.

"...Are you absolutely sure we should not send the med-evac? Mr. Rain might sustain injuries if not-"

"I am sure Owyn," she interrupted, "if what you said about that injection is true, then the boy should be fine. However, it will be dispatched when they get close to their destination."

"This… this was a mistake."

"I know," she replied with her head down. "But we've already made so many. One or two are just drops in the bucket."

"Drops fill buckets, Thena," he said with a sigh. "Let's… let's see how the others are doing. I trust Caleb to be able to hold his own."

She sighed, swiping the hologram screen before them, bringing up another video. Brawnz Ni had just met his partner as she finished wiping out a small group of ursa. The two were attempting to get to know each other as they made their way towards their goal. "In any case, it seems the Nis' boy finally found a partner. After watching their strange card games the other night, I could have sworn he and either Mr. Stallion or Caleb would become partners. Still, his martial prowess is top notch, anyone would be lucky to be his partner."

"Ah but don't discount Miss Zedong now," he replied, his face brighter, "she's a better sniper than even some of our fourth years. It seems her mother had a hand in her training. Whichever team we decide to place them in will be formidable."

"As will miss Violette's. For the first in her family to attempt to become a hunter she is quite the force to be reckoned with," Thena Lyons said, switching to a camera showing Nebula Violette. She had met another girl, with dirty blond hair and a light green dress. "It seems she partnered with Miss Gayl. If the reports from Oasis were any indication, she's extremely gifted with the use of wind dust."

"Mhmm… Tell me… how are our granddaughters doing?"

Thena Lyons swiped the hologram screen, changing the camera to one which depicted a young woman in rather thick plate armor fighting alongside a dark skinned youth wearing some atlesian ballistic armor and a cape emblazoned with some sort of family crest. They watched as they cut through a pack of latrans, the coyote-like subspecies of beowolves which they observed the Courier fighting earlier.

"It seems our Sarah has partnered with Mr. Greg Kodiak. A kind boy, albeit one who owns a rather large reserve of strength. How he can lift that modified sledgehammer is beyond me, as I don't even think even the staff here could lift that. They seem to work well together."

"Is Sarah alright?" Owyn Lyons asked.

"Do you even have to ask?" she responded pointing to the now dead group of latrans.

"And… Lily?"

Thena Lyons swiped the large screen again, before gazing into it.

"It seems she's still without a partner, though by my guess she'll meet up with either Mr. Yarrow or Mr. Delacroix. I greatly hope she meets the former."

"Why is that?" Owyn Lyons asked. "Mr. Mars Delacroix seems a pleasant person."

"He has high marks in everything but personal combat," she replied pulling up his file on her scroll. "He has a reluctance to hurt others, more specifically, other huntsmen and huntresses in training. His marks in slaying grimm are better than around ninety-eight percent of all applicants over the past four years, however."

"Well then Lily would probably make an amazing partner for him, wouldn't you think."

"Perhaps… I guess we'll see where the chips land so to speak."

Owyn Lyons sighed as he looked at the screen as it spread showing all of the various students some of whom already made it to the plateau. He felt in his gut that the day was going to be a long one.

* * *

 _Oh this isn't good_ , the Courier thought as his free hand reached into his right pockets. Slamming his hand against his pants pockets, he groaned. He had been carrying the wounded dog-eared student for just under an hour, though he felt only slightly sore around the shoulders due to the improvements made by the Think Tank. The student breathed in and out, and the Courier felt relieved to know that the stimpack seemed to nullify any damage the carrying most likely did to the boy's abdomen. Unfortunately, not everything went well, as they encountered packs of grimm almost every three minutes and the Courier's patience seemed close to snapping. Luckily he could see the mesas extremely clearly, and could even make out some sort of fenced in area near the center of the group of mesas with what looked like a landing zone. However, he felt they still stood some quarter of an hour away, which just exacerbated the current issue plaguing the two.

"Well… that giant gecko look-alike ate our last shotgun shell," the Courier said as he took the shotgun from the loop created by his left hand and holstered it. He then replaced it with A Light Shining in the Darkness, hoping that Joshua Graham's pistol could do enough damage to the creatures of Remnant to put them down. He never would call the pistol weak, having a fondness for the customized .45, rather he would claim many of the creatures of remnant put most of the creatures in the wastes to shame in terms of size and endurance.

When the Courier finally reached the mesas he breathed a quick sigh of relief only to hear a buzzing from behind him. Dashing to the right as quick as he could, he dodged some rolling strike of an armored grimm. Looking behind him, he groaned, seeing a group of the same armored grimm all following the first. Running to his right, he managed to dodge each of their strikes, though one grazed his left leg. When he reached the wall of one of the Mesas he found himself staring at a half circle of the creatures. They stood to his chest on all fours, and they had two tusks on the front of them. For some strange reason, he wanted to call them chupacabras, though he figured they weren't lizards and didn't eat goats.

They looked to be preparing to all charge their rolling attack at once, hoping to kill the Courier through overwhelming force. As he observed them, his eyes widened in realization, and he aimed A Light Shining in the Darkness at the one on the far left, who was the closest to charging. As soon as the creature started to roll the Courier unloaded all six shots at the right side of its hard armor. The bullets all bounced of the armor, doing no damage to the creature as it began to roll… right into the grimm to its immediate right. The first grimm fell over onto its hard back as the grimm it hit repeated the process, creating a short lived domino effect amongst the line, with the end result being the entire group unable to right themselves after landing on their backs. Grabbing the now empty gun with a few free fingers on his left hand the Courier unholstered his rifle. Aiming at the neck of the instigator the he fired, killing the creature instantly. He repeated this process until there was nothing left but dissolving corpses, and dented lead balls.

The Courier holstered his rifle and grabbed a pistol magazine from his left waist. Trading the pistol in the free fingers of one hand with the magazine in the other he began the long process of a one handed reload. After pulling back the slide with the few fingers available on his left hand, he hit the safety and holstered it, and continued forward towards the center.

The mesas stood at a fair enough distance from each other, large shrubland fields separating their bases. The formations were as red as the horizon, with marbled brown streaks. There was enough shade at their bases to cover multiple wasteland shacks, and the Courier could clearly see the healthiest shrubs growing from beyond the shadows' farthest limits. One of the mesas rose slightly higher than the others, and he could see the base camp on a hill at its base. Smiling in relief the Courier began walking towards the camp.

The Courier fell into the shadow of a giant mesa to his left, large cracks at its base. He decided to take a quick breather, to catch his breath and to see if his passenger still breathed. Placing the spear he had been carrying against the rock formation itself the Courier held up a hand to the injured student's neck, as he had done every five or so minutes for the past hour. A pulse could still be felt and it seemed to not have slown down or weakened at all, indicating the student's relative stability. Sighing in content the Courier relaxed for a moment as he looked about.

* * *

"So, apparently, according to David, my desire for a dress code involving tiny miniskirts is 'impractical' and 'sexist'."

"...That's because it **is**!"

"How? Explain it to me!"

"By the First, how long have they been arguing," Brawnz said as he approached his partner. She looked up briefly and made a small sound before relaxing. She smiled softly before answering. She sat on a rock near the edge of the camp, right by the metal fence that enclosed the landing zone.

"About fifteen minutes. I'm starting to worry that I might end up on a team with them. I wouldn't really mind Nolan, but... Roy scares me."

Brawnz chuckled out as he patted her shoulder, "I met Roy the other day, he wasn't so bad. Slightly open and energetic, but not a bad guy."

"If-If you say so," she replied, as she looked over the desert. She doubled back when she looked out at one of the mesas, and she pulled out her sniper rifle.

"Hey is everything alright?" Brawnz asked, grabbing the attention of some of the surrounding students. He thanked the First when Roy and his partner, Nolan Porfirio,

"... I've… That's… Oh First…" She could only say as she stumbled her hands around her pockets for a magazine. Her hands shook so badly that when she finally grabbed one, she nearly dropped it before loading it.

"May?" Brawnz asked concerned. He looked to where his partner's rifle was aimed, and all he could see was a large mesa, its shadow covering the plains. Then he realized why she freaked out when he noticed the shadow overlapped another mesa's perpendicularly, and was creeping forward.

"... That's not a shadow is it?"

"..."

"How many grimm are there."

"... Fifty… Maybe Sixty."

"Oh dust dammit!"

"Wait… They're not heading towards us," she said as she scanned the horizon with her scope, the other students, who heard her reloading their guns.

"Where are they going then?" Roy asked as he sharpened some of the teeth on his sawblades.

"... Oh First no… I found the last students… well student," she said as she looked through her rifle at one of the closer mesas.

"... Why did that go from plural to singular?" Nolan asked nervously as he replaced the electric dust in his rod.

"Only one is conscious. The other's carrying him on their back."

"Wait… Crap! One of them's Caleb!" Roy shouted out.

"Aw Dammit!" Brawnz exclaimed, "Is he the one unconscious or-?"

"... Was Caleb wearing a duster when we left?"

"Yeah," Roy said drawing out the middle.

"It doesn't matter!" Nebula yelled angrily as she ran off, her crossbow in hand. "We have to go now!"

"Wait, what's he doing?" May asked, causing the others to look out towards the mesas, attempting to see what was happening.

* * *

 _This is probably my fault,_ the Courier thought as he tried gently shoving his passenger into one of the cracks in the mesa. It took him a good minute to get the injured student safely into the crevice. The head was gently placed against one of the walls, which both were tight enough to prevent the student's legs from buckling, as well as preventing any grimm from getting to him. Turning around, the Courier grimaced seeing that the massive horde of grimm coming directly for him.

 _I should've stripped him, then the clothes would have drawn them off! Why can't I do a single thing right?_ He thought as he pulled the Gauss Rifle from his back and walked towards the horde. The Courier then noticed it hadn't even been loaded, and he smacked his helmet. Taking out a single shot cartridge filled with Max Charge Microfusion cells, he loaded the rifle, locking the round in the barrel. Taking a calming breath, he watched as the grimm horde grew ever closer pulling the Gauss Rifle up to his shoulder. He quickly looked to see if anyone was around or in the grimm horde, and when he saw he was the only person there, held his breath as he took aim. He aimed towards the skull of grimm that charged in the center, one of those smaller beowolves that he saw earlier, and fired the rifle.

The plasma covered iron slug left the Gauss Rifle fast enough that the rifle bucked against the Courier's right shoulder hard enough to twist his body. The shot hit straight into the center of the grimm's skull, killing the creature instantly. The slug and plasma's makeup caused the remaining molecules in the creature's physical form to destabilize, creating a large green explosion of energy that hit the grimm close enough to be physically touching the creature. Caught up in the released energy of the smaller beowolf's death, they too perished. However, due to the nature of the explosion, their bodies did not dissolve and instead their physical forms destabilized just like the first grimm, creating plasma explosions that caught the grimm nearest to them. This process repeated for all of one second, until the explosions reached the outer edge. With no further deaths, the series of plasma explosions ceased, leaving only a large pond of green sludge where a horde of grimm once stood, and a scare few mortally wounded grimm.

The Courier's mouth dropped and he looked at his Gauss Rifle with wide eyes. He stared at it for a few seconds before petting it and reloading it with a cartridge filled with standard Microfusion cells. He then holstered it on his back, an impressed smile plastered on his lips. He began walking towards the crevice with a careful step, hoping not to make enough noise to attract any grimm.

He made it to the crevice and grabbed the student's hand intending to take him out when he felt the ground shaking lightly. Pulling desperately, the Courier managed to get the student's upper half out of the crevice when he heard an explosion from behind him, and felt the ground stop shaking. Turning around he witnessed as a massive grimm began to crawl out of a hole in the ground.

The creature stood at over twice the height of the Courier when standing on its hind legs, and was, from claw to claw, just as wide. It had the muscles and scaly body of a deathclaw far more massive than even the largest alpha. While its claws were longer, they looked to be made for digging rather than attacking, with their mole like appearance. Though unfortunately they seemed to be able to serve dual purposes if the dark rusty stains were any indication. All along its back were the numerous bony protrusions that defined a grimm.

However the creature's head stole the attention away from the rest of its body, being completely void of any eyes and ear-like protrusions. There were, however, two circular drum like pads on the sides where a deathclaws horns would normally have stuck out. The grimm's snout was slightly longer than that of its similar looking wasteland counterpart, and it sniffed the air in a peculiar manner, like a dog hunting for mole rats. Finding what it searched for, it turned towards the two students, and began to open its mouths. The creature's snout was not more than four, long, tooth-filled jaws-upper, lower, left, and right-with lips that closed at near right angles. It roared, shaking both the air and the ground beneath it, causing the Courier to flinch. When it finished it pointed its snout at him, as if the grimm was staring directly at him.

"Shit."

* * *

 **AN: Meltdown Perk. Always take it. Now you guys know the REAL reason why he didn't use the Gauss Rifle back in the first chapter. Also I would like to point out that this is really the Courier's only advantage over the huntsmen and huntresses of Remnant. He's weaker and slower than pretty much every other student, as he STILL doesn't have his Aura unlocked. This is mostly because no one's told him something like that exists. When he starts fighting other students in sparring matches, don't expect him to hand their asses to them on a silver platter.**

 **Also, I chose the Fireman's carry because it would actually be a SOMEWHAT sensible option, as the only one who could help at the time was the Courier, and he is smaller than the injured student.**

 **A better course of action in such a situation would have been to drag him by his shoulders, but that would involve fighting innumerably more grimm and might have taken hours to reach help. Hours which neither had.**

 **As always, please feel free to leave comments and constructive criticism. I always enjoy reading you guys' thoughts.**


	5. Determination

**AN: … So… really glad I didn't have this take place at Beacon a year after season one started… would have been awkward as all hell. Man, did Rooster Teeth hire Gen Urobuchi?**

 **No… no that would have been worse… oh God would it have been worse.**

 **So, just to say it, I think Rooster Teeth should be crowned the King of Cerebus Syndrome. First RvB and now RWBY. What's next? X-Ray and Vav?**

 **Sorry it took so long, been busy with university. Here you go!**

* * *

-October 4, 2281

There are those who doubt the human spirit, calling it a naive, childish, idealistic notion that "undermines the cruel nature of man". It is a rather sad state of affairs when such descriptions of our nature are not wholly unwarranted; we did burn this world after all. Any man can look out the dilapidated windows of once beautiful homes and see what remains of the earth, in all of its radiated horror.

But it is far more tragic in that after walking the bar for their daily therapy, safe inside the rebuilt walls of civilization, and passing churches, schools, markets, and refurbished houses, they drink their fill, the mindset of humanity in a dead end state clear in their minds.

"T _hey call us couriers because we always deliver."_

 _-Michael Cheng, Package Courier for the Baja Express._

 **Chapter 5: Determination**

As wastelanders viewed their lives in multitudes of varying ways, all shaped by experience in both their content as well as location, there existed no consensus on what could be described as "the most dangerous", as every wastelander gave different answers. These answers often depended highly upon the particular environment in which wastelanders lived, as each particular area of the land once known as America produced different threats. In the Mojave, for example, the average wastelander would have considered the Legion as a whole to be the most dangerous force in the wasteland, had their infrastructure and leadership not cracked from the Second Battle of Hoover Dam. Likewise someone in the Capital Wasteland might have called the Enclave the most dangerous force, and a scavenger from the Commonwealth might still call the Institute such. Some citizens of the New California Republic might even name individuals such as the Courier, the Vault Dweller, or the Chosen One, out of either malice and fear or love and respect.

However, despite the many differences there exists a single entity that is considered a universally dangerous force amongst all of the known American wastelands. The mere presence of this entity is enough to pause even the most veteran wastelanders in their tracts. Its mere existence pauses entire routes of commerce, causing both physical and economic danger to the surrounding communities. The denizens of the wasteland first saw this entity as mere myth, tall-tales told by junkies looking for caps for their next fix. It took little time for those myths to be replaced with the horrors of reality. They gave this entity a name, which described both its appearance and the horror one would feel should they find themselves unlucky enough to encounter it.

Deathclaw.

Unfortunately, the Courier felt as though the grimm before him, which only looked similar to the monstrous beast, would have eviscerated the entirety of Quarry Junction in mere minutes. Turning back towards the mesa, he shoved the wounded student back into the crevice, causing several small lacerations on the unconscious boy's face and arms. As soon as the student was not so gently shoved into place the Courier let to the side, dodging the blind grimm's charge. Looking back towards the crevice he felt slightly relieved to see the student still in place, and uncrushed by debris. The Courier's eyes shot wide open, and he took several potshots at the grimm's torso with A Light Shining in the Darkness, taking the grimm's attention off of the bleeding student.

"Over here!" the Courier shouted, his throat hurting from the strain. He reloaded and shot at the grimm's face, hitting it with three of the six shots. The grimm charged at him again, charging at speeds he thought impossible, dust forming clouds behind him. Rolling to the side, he barely managed to avoid the sharp mole-like claws that came at him as the grimm charged. Holstering the pistol, the Courier pulled out the Gauss rifle before dodging another strike at his head by ducking. Jumping backwards, he distanced himself from the large grimm by a slight hair. Quickly aiming the rifle, he fired the prepared shot into the grimm's back left leg. The sound of the slug's impact and subsequent explosion was followed by the sounds of cracking and a loud roar of pain from the grimm. Reloading, he began dashing as the grimm lunged towards him, ducking under the grimm and slipping underneath the grimm's groin.

The Courier fired the Gauss Rifle at point blank range as he passed the grimm's legs, further breaking the appendage. The miniature plasma explosion also caught the Courier and he stumbled back behind the grimm. He managed to get his footing, and emptied the Gauss rifle, preparing to reload it. The sky rapidly zoomed past him as he flew backwards, his rifle dropping to the ground as pain surged through his body, his ability to breathe becoming an excruciating task. Looking towards the grimm, he felt the vibrations as the grimm slammed its lizard-like tail into the ground.

 _How'd I miss that?_

The grimm took a few tentative steps towards the rising Courier, limping slightly, to his immediate relief. Said relief died a rather wretched death when the grimm stopped a good distance away and brought up its front paw rather suspiciously. Looking at the ground before the grimm, the Courier's eyes widened in shock as he made to run towards the grimm. The sound of crunching metal halted him, and he winced in pain as he looked to the ground again.

Under the damnable grimm's claws laid the now only mostly intact remains of the Gauss Rifle the Courier had come to love. Screws and broken coils surrounded the poor device like severed limbs, and the barrel of the device bent at an angle similar to the injured student. Sparks flied from the disemboweled wires that once lovingly wrapped around the barrel like wedding rings. The Courier sniffed as he looked up towards the wretched grimm, its maw opened slightly as if grinning.

"You're dead," he stated, breaking the mourning silence which seemed to surround them with quiet anger. The grimm snorted defiantly, pleased with its damnable atrocity. Pulling out Clark's old Rifle once again, the Courier strafed clockwise around the grimm hitting its uninjured back leg with every one of the magazine's ten shots causing the grimm to growl loudly in pain. The grimm lunged forward towards him, its speed hampered by its nearly severed back leg. Its speed was enough to allow him to strafe to its right side, giving him time to reload and get in several more shots to the grimm's other leg. He realized his mistake when the grimm's hip slammed into him, causing him to fly backwards towards one of the large rocks that populated the battlefield. He slammed into the rock, making his entire body scream in pain.

Raising his rifle as he opened his eyes, he sent several shots into the grimm's softer torso before rolling his entire body to the side as the grimm slammed both of its claws into the spot where the Courier had landed. Repeating the process, the Courier found himself continuing to roll as the grimm's attacks refused to end. He was stopped in his attempts when he felt a heavy weight press down on his chest. He knew well enough his skeletal system's reinforcement was the only reason his body wasn't crushed under the weight. Looking up, he found himself face to face with the grimm, its snarling maw just a scant half meter above his face. It head moved upwards and the Courier instinctively raised his left arm. The grimm's head sped towards him and bit down on the first thing it could, only to have its jaw stopped by the Pip-Boy on its victim's arm, several teeth cracking against the metal. The Courier chuckled dryly at the grimm's futile attempts to bite through one of the most durable devices known to man, only stopping when the grimm yanked up.

A loud pop sound filled the air, and he felt a thousand knives jam themselves into his shoulder. Gritting his teeth, he drew his Ranger Sequoia and fired three shots into the grimm's now exposed neck. The grimm released his left arm and it fell limply beside the Courier, and he found himself unable to move it more than a hair at most. The grimm growled again and he unloaded the remaining shots into the grimm's face. Finally sighing as the grimm backed up, taking its clawed appendage with it, he backed up and got on his feet, using his right arm to speed up the process. Holstering the revolver, the Courier began to jog away from the creature, wincing as he grabbed his arm.

The Courier's body flew forward as the creature slashed him in the back, the sound of its claws scraping against the thick body armor the only indication his torso didn't rip apart. Landing on his front he could only groan in pain as he rolled to the side and began pushing himself away from the slowly approaching grimm. The Creature snarled as it prepared to launch itself at him, only for a wound to open on the creature's front leg, tripping it. Not a half second later, a crack sounded from afar.

Both looked towards the sound, and the Courier grinned as he picked himself up and ran to the side, perpendicular to the direction of the fenced in area. The grimm roared as it tried to follow him only to be pushed back by the sniper fire. Taking advantage of the grimm's hesitation, he shoved his dislocated arm upwards and back into place, grunting in pain as it fit back into place. Moving his arm, he found the pain minimal enough to allow for his left arm's use. Looking around the battlefield, he spotted his rifle. Looking towards the immobile creature he began to run for the rifle, maintaining eye contact with the dark creature's form. Grabbing the rifle, the Courier firmly smacked the side of the rifle to dust the dirt off.

The Courier loaded the last clip into his rifle and aimed towards the creature's legs, only to feel a dozen projectiles hit him in the chest, only bounce off his armor. Running towards the cover to his right, he looked about in an attempt to find the assailant only to blanch when he looked back at the grimm. The grimm's head faced towards him and its mouth was open, its four jaws giving the creatures face the appearance of a flower. Its fangs rattled violently before launching in his general direction, each shot filling the air with a squelching sound. Jumping behind a thick rock, he listened as the teeth bounced off the dense cover standing between him and the disgusting grimm. As he began to plan, he felt his pockets for whatever ammo he could find, smacking the back of his helmeted head against the stone when he found nothing but the Microfusion Cell based ammo for his Gauss Rifle.

 _Okay, dumbass, you wasted your ammo on what? Crippling it so you and your unconscious friend could escape? Great plan! Now there's no ammo left and a pissed off grimm is shooting its_ _ **teeth**_ _at you! Grade-A work right there. At least it can't claw at you without tripping in pain._ The Courier sighed. _Alright, I have two options. I could stay, and hopefully kill the grimm, or I could run to safety, leaving Mr. Dog Ears…_ The Courier shook his head and looked around the rock at the creature. It breathed slowly and surely, its bony back poised towards the fenced-in area, providing a shield from the sniper fire. It remained unmoving, but its eyeless visage gave him what he could only assume was a glare.

He studied the creature for a moment before noticing the blood dripping from its neck, the gov't rounds from earlier having hit far harder than he could have ever hoped. Smiling under his helmet, he looked back at the few unused Gauss Rifle cartridges. Pulling out the knife the Courier quickly unscrewed the enclosed ammunition, allowing him to see the simple circuits. He pulled out one of connected Microfusion Cells and screwed its top off. Removing the heavy batter inside, he began a long process of dismantling his rifle rounds, filling the empty battery case with gunpowder. After screwing the top back on, he loaded his last bullet back into the magazine and loaded his rifle. Placing the poor excuse for a grenade back in, he began repeating the process with another cell. Sighing in relief when he finished, he screwed the Gauss Rifle cartridge back together, and looked around behind him. Seeing the crack where the injured student was, he cracked a smirk under his helmet.

The Courier grabbed his rifle and dashed from behind the rock, aiming his rifle at the creature's front legs as he once again strafed the grimm. Roaring, it shouted to the wasteland that he had its attention.

"TRIP ALREADY!" He shouted at the top of his lungs as he fired the last bullet, which he left chambered when he removed the magazine, into the grimm's leg and the creature stumbled. Holstering the rifle, the Courier pulled out his combat knife hoping the creature would fall. The strange grimm towered back up just as the sniper fire ceased, and opened its maw, a knowing grin plastered on its alien face. Dropping the Gauss Rifle cartridge, the Courier sprinted towards the crack in the wall. Taking a look back he saw the grimm approaching the fallen cartridge. Crossing his fingers, he watched as the grimm stomped down on the cartridge.

And he watched in horror as nothing happened. Turning his head back around the Courier began to increase his speed towards the crack, hoping to at least get enough distance from the grimm that he could hopefully turn the fight around. Then a loud bang went off, and he heard the creature roar above the high pitched ringing. Twisting his head to look at the grimm, he could only smile as smoke rose from under the creature's stumbling form. The few Microfusion Cells which he left intact had emitted sparks when the creature crushed the device, setting off the gunpowder filled cells that had spilt the moment the grimm crushed them. With only a slightly more explosive yield than a flashbang, the makeshift mine worked as intended, creating a loud sound, disorienting the auditory dependent creature.

The Grimm stumbled without falling, moving back in forth in its deafened state as if drunk. Making it to the crack the Courier quickly found the injured student's weapon. Sheathing the knife, he picked up the now dirt covered spear. Turning around, he found himself finding the grimm still stumbling around like a patron at the Atomic Wrangler. When the grimm began to stop stumbling it began to shake its head, clearing itself of the dizziness. As it stood still, the Courier shot back his right arm, gripping the spear in the middle, where it was balanced. Running forward, he flung the spear straight at the creature's front leg.

As soon as the spear entered the leg, the barbs just below the head of the spear shot out to the side, stabbing the barbs through the grimm's thigh and severing the leg. The grimm roared as it tripped and fell, its body sending dust flying when it landed. The Courier sprinted straight at the struggling creature as it attempted to stand on three legs. Jumping as he reached its front, he landed on top of its large head. Gripping the grimm's neck with his left hand he swung his right arm around, stabbing into its neck with his knife.

It bucked like one a mechanical bull from New Reno, and he could barely hold on. When the creature stumbled, and a break in the bucking appeared, he began stabbing into the creature's neck repeatedly. Just as he was about to stab again, he felt sharp pains travel up his left leg, and he dropped the knife. Grabbing the edge of the cut flesh with this right hand, and the other side barely with his left he began pulling, hoping to cause as much bleeding as possible. As the grimm continued to buck, his leg screaming with each movement, he felt the skin tear further and further, and he could smell the distinct scent of copper.

After a particularly nasty buck the Courier lost grip with his right hand. Panicking he shot his arm back around by throwing his body to the right. Attempting to grab the flap of skin his hand missed and he instead felt himself grabbing something cylindrical. Realization struck like a fifty caliber round to his head, and he began pulling on the cylindrical object. The Creature's maw opened in pain and the Courier's leg was freed. The last buck sent him flying towards the bones on the grimm's back, but his grip on the grimm's trachea caused him to turn about and fall below the creature. The grimm's attempt to remain standing caused the wastelander to bring with him the creatures now ripped trachea as he fell.

The Courier landed with a hard thud, dull pain rising from his back only to be doubled as the creature's corpse pinned him to the ground. He groaned in agony as the corpse started to evaporate, all too slowly for the young wastelander. After the corpse vanished, he pushed off the ground and attempted to stand up.

 _CRAP!_

Excruciating pain rose from his leg up his spine and he collapsed, his stomach churning. Reaching up with his hand he quickly tried to take his helmet off, but wasn't quick enough and a gross acidic slop of what was once eggs, toast, and the floppiest bacon ever fried left his mouth, filling the bottom of his helmet. Finally releasing the latch, he was able to take off his helmet, letting the vomit flow out and giving him fresh air to breathe. Twisting over, he looked at his injured leg. Blood flowed freely from his lower left leg and in a few holes he could see the metallic reinforcements that were grafted to his bones. He grunted as he took out the last of the stimpacks he brought to initiation, injecting them both directly into his leg. As the wounds began to close up he looked around before crawling on hands and knees towards the injured student's spear. After putting his helmet on the head, he braced it in the ground as he stood up, using it to help hold his body weight.

He made his way to the crack in the mesa, picking up his knife and Gauss Rifle in a couple of quick detours. When he got there, he noticed his injured companion was breathing more clearly. It took a good few minutes for the Courier to pull him out, and he nearly reopened up his wounds preventing the body from hitting the ground. Bending down he managed to catch the still unconscious student, and managed to twist his body so he could grab the student's right hand in his own, after once again stinging in his right arm between the student's legs. Greatly pushing down on the borrowed spear, the Courier still stumbled standing up, the added weight causing more pain to shoot through his body. Ignoring his body's screams he began to slowly limp himself and his load forward.

The afternoon sun beat down on his body as he made his way towards the fenced in area, hunger pains registering like jagged knives. With every two steps the pain in his left leg would shoot up his spine, despite his use of his companion's metallic spear to hold their combined weight. After almost fifteen minutes of agony he found himself staring at the large fence, relieved to be close enough to see the individual wires that made it. Increasing his speed he began to make his way up the ramp, noting the sound of a bullhead in the distance.

"Caleb!"

Looking up he found himself facing eight students running towards him, only to watch in confusion as they all stopped in their tracks to look at him. He slowed down slightly to take in their appearances and weapons. He passed his gaze over the three he had met earlier, happily noting that none of them even seemed to use guns at all. Looking over the others he found himself both relieved and shocked that only one of them used an actual gun. His gaze lingered on the one who actually used a gun. The cap wearing girl shrank under his gaze, her one visible eye looking away from him.

 _Now I feel bad._

After less than five seconds, he looked forward and continued on his way towards the landing zone. They all stayed silent as he dragged himself forward, shock evident on their faces. They did not stir until after he passed them, and it took them a few seconds to catch up to him.

"You-You're bleeding," the girl he met earlier spoke with shock evident in her voice. She tried grabbing the student's arm, trying to pry it from the Courier's hand.

"I'm fine," the Courier responded as he adjusted the wounded student's weight, causing her to pull her arm back.

"Those wounds go halfway to the bone," Roy spoke up.

"I'm fine," the Courier repeated, with an unusual force in his voice.

"Come on, at least let us help you carry him!" a girl in a green dress exclaimed.

"I'm fine," the Courier said for the third time, slight exasperation hidden under a flat tone. "Don't worry, please, I've been through worse than this."

They all became silent, and he knew they wore shocked or possibly annoyed expressions despite a lack of visual proof. As he approached the fence, the roaring of engines filled the air. Looking up, he witnessed a bullhead, a red cross on the side, fly above his head and begin to descend into the landing zone.

As he entered the landing zone he gave the rest of the students a wide berth, cautious of their intentions as they continued to stare at him in a mixture of horror and confusion. He continued on towards the bullhead, stopping when he was near the outskirts of the waves of dust created by the ship's descent. He faced away from the ship as he noticed several students approach, and turned to face them, giving them a discerning gazed. He studied each of the students who seemed to utilize guns, looking for anything that utilized a small caliber, and continued to do so even as he heard a door sliding open behind him.

"Mr. Caleb, I believe Dr. Calendula would like it if you and Mr. Rain entered the Bullhead."

Turning around he found himself facing Thena Lyons, her eyes glaring angrily at a point to his left. The Courier nodded his head and slowly limped towards the open doors of the bullhead, with expensive looking medical equipment bolted down inside. The inside looked more like a small medical clinic with its chairs and large array of cabinets. There was a woman inside who was placing a strange mechanical stretcher on the floor of the bullhead. When he made it to the opening he gave her the student's arm and crouched, grabbing the boy's left leg while the doctor made to grab the student under his arms. She pulled the injured student into the bullhead while the Courier pushed his left leg up. After pulling him in and placing him on the stretcher, she gestured for the Courier to enter the bullhead, which he did with some difficulty. After entering she hit the metal wall behind her, letting a couple of bangs fill the air. The sides of the bullhead closed and she motioned for the courier to sit down where he stood instead of sitting on one of the bolted chairs.

He felt the ship take off as he sat down, noting that the ship did not lurch as much as it did when he left Shade. He leaned back against one of the walls and watched as the doctor began to examine the unconscious student closely, checking his ribs and skull for any breaks first, and moving downwards, examining the lightly stained bandages around the boy's stomach. After raising the stretcher to her waist and hooking up a very tiny heart monitor to his finger, she turned to the Courier. She walked over and crouched by his legs. Looking at the large amount of holes in his left leg from above, she gave the Courier a sympathetic glance.

"You walked on this?"

The Courier shrugged and looked to his unconscious companion. As he was forming a response she began rolling the pants leg up to his kneecap, and he could feel the tightness just above his knee. As she was examining his leg, he continued to study the unconscious dog-eared student with a sad look.

"Is he going to be okay?" He asked as the doctor began to wrap his leg in the softest gauze he ever felt. She looked back at the unconscious student and gave him a mirthful smirk.

"Oh yeah, he'll probably even wake in a couple of hours if not by the time we get back," she responded. "I'm more concerned about your leg right now."

"I'm sorry," he said. She turned to the Courier with a confused expression plastered on her face. He gave her an apologetic smile, "I made your job that much harder, didn't I?"

"Actually, that's just it," she said, shaking her head, "You're leg's heavily injured, but-and I have no clue why- but your body's already beginning to repair damage to the muscles and skin, and if I could hazard a guess, is already in the process of undergoing angiogenesis. You're making my job too **easy**." There was an awkward silence as she looked straight into the Courier's eyes, and he could see questions forming in her mind through her orange eyes. He shrugged before responding.

"I'm a fast healer, that's all," he said. Looking down at his leg he noticed she had finished wrapping his leg in gauze while she was talking to him. She stood up tall above him, as she walked towards the other side of the room, opening one of the lower cabinets.

"You don't just skip nearly half of week of wound healing in a little under half an hour. Even those with massive reserves of aura don't just skip entire steps in the natural healing process."

"I don't know what to tell you. I heal quickly. It's probably the only reason I'm still alive."

"Are all the people from your world such quick healers?"

The Courier stared at her blankly, not expressing any surprise or emotion at her statement. She responded by giving him a warm half smile, giving him the conformation that Lyons had already informed her of his otherworldly origin. He smiled back and lifted his head back to rest against the wall.

"PHOENIX Monocyte Breeder," he said simply as he gazed at the ceiling.

"What?"

"PHOENIX Monocyte Breeder," he repeated, looking back up to the doctor. "A cybernetic implant. Cost me an arm and a leg to get, but it drastically speeds up the healing process. I'd explain its workings but I feel like death. Sorry."

"Cybernetic implants that can exceed aura... your world must be impressive" she said, missing the dark chuckle that came from her patient. She once again approached him, carrying a large black walking cast. The Courier began to sweat, looking at the cumbersome device. "So, you were lying then?"

"No, I've always been a quick healer, but the implant just makes it even faster," he replied. "It also means I heal faster than most people back on Earth."

She nodded as she bent down, lifting his leg into the air and removing his boot. She held his leg in place for a minute as she placed the large boot under it, before gently laying his gauze covered leg into the cast. For the first time since examining the other injured student, she wordlessly worked, tightening the thick straps around the overlapping padded front so that his leg was encased in the hard plastic device. She gently placed his leg down and reached her hand out for him. Smiling to himself, he gave her his hand and felt her tug at his right hand. It took her ten seconds before she let go and huffed out, breathing heavily as the Courier stood up by himself. She gave him a rather accusing stare.

"Do I want to know why you weigh far more than your appearance would imply?"

"No," the Courier said with an apologetic grin. The woman stared back at the boy and his hundred-seventy-eight centimeter frame, giving him a stare he was all too familiar with. "Sorry, but it's a bit… personal." The woman responded by shrugging. She then went back to the cabinet where she pulled the walking brace, pulling out a large roll of gauze and a similar roll of what appeared to be fiberglass. She walked around the unconscious student and sat next to his legs. Lifting his broken leg, she removed the medical brace, handing it back to the Courier who shrugged before placing it in the corner. When he turned back, she had already finished wrapping the broken limb in gauze, the smell of alcoholic cleanser indicating she had also washed the leg as well.

Dr. Calendula quickly wrapped the broken leg in the now wet fiberglass wrap, covering the student's right leg in the material from the ankle to above the kneecap. After finishing her rather quick work she took the refuse wrappings and moved to throw them into a small container on top of one of the counters.

He limped around the still unconscious student, grimacing with how unwieldy the cast was. Finding a chair between the counter on the rear side of the bullhead and the door on the opposite side he finally took a seat on something relatively comfortable. Leaning his head back against the wall he decided to doze off while the ship continued to travel to Shade.

* * *

The Courier woke to the sounds of almost silent footfalls. Standing up quickly he looked to the source, only to tilt his head back in surprise. The injured student was almost thirteen centimeters taller than him, and the top of the Courier's head only reached up to the other's nose. He stared at the other student, who was adopting a rather amused grin while adjusting the weight he put on the crutches.

"Damn. And here I thought I might sneak up on ya," he said with a friendly tone. The Courier briefly wondered what they would call his accent if Ireland didn't exist on remnant. His wide grey eyes stared down at the Courier. "You're pretty sharp bud."

"Are you alright?" the Courier asked, concern etched within the rather quiet voice. Looking around he found the doctor dozing off on the third chair in the room.

"Never been better!" he exclaimed with a surprising cheer to his voice. His smile showed the Courier his unusually white teeth, indicating his rather good grooming habits. He felt a pang of jealousy towards the student in front of him. Most people would kill to have the full set of teeth the Courier had, let alone the shining beacons like the ones in the student's mouth.

"No offense, but I believe _not_ being shot in the stomach would be 'better'" the Courier said dryly. The other student gave him a questioning gaze before looking down at his own stomach, raising his head back with understanding plastered on his face. The student nodded a few times with a smirk.

"I'm alive when I should be dead," the student said with a joyful expression.

"Story of my life in seven words," the Courier replied. The two stared at each other for a few minutes before the larger student began to chuckle.

"Man, you must have some seriously amazing stories to tell," the student stated through his laughter.

"Not really." The tall student shook his head back and forth. They could feel the ship lurch and stop. They felt the ship slowly land, and the dog eared student started fidgeting in his seat.

"Aw, man, I can't wait to see what teams are formed! Do you think they'll let us at least attend the naming ceremony?" he asked with a sigh, finally realizing the two of them would have to wait for their turn. "Ah well, one year's not so bad, yeah?"

"Nope," the Courier said with a grin.

"I just wish it didn't happen on a Festival Year! Grrr," he growled out. "Racist assholes!"

"Racists?" the Courier asked, a frown forming on his face, giving him the appearance of someone dealing with a particularly troublesome radroach.

"Yeah. Those humans that shot me called me a damned 'mutt'" he said grumbling.

"...What?" the Courier said flatly. "Why?"

"... You're… ah… pretty new to the world aren't ya?" It took all of the Courier's willpower not to burst out laughing at the statement, preventing a horrible death by asphyxiation. "Do you know what racism is?"

"Unfortunately yes, but I don't get why… mutt… specifically," the Courier began before looking up at the dog ears, remembering they existed. When one has seen things no other man should ever have to, such as the unholy FEV amalgamations of dogs, humans, and other randomly selected creatures known as centaurs, the birthing process of Cazadors, or the contents of a New Reno toilet, a teenager with the ears of a dog seems tame and, frankly, rather unremarkable in comparison. Most people in the wasteland would stare for a minute or so and then continue on their way, assuming the individual afflicted with a particularly benign mutation compared to some of the more physically horrible mutations that people found amongst the populace.

Being a racist asshole consumed too much energy for those who lived outside civilization, and took up time that could be better spent fixing guns, finding nourishment, or producing the next generation.

"Oh."

"You look like you've never met a faunus before," the student stated.

"What's a faunus?" The Courier asked. The Student across from him simply gave him an incredulous look before letting out a single chuckle. He moved his hands to the dog ears on his head and flopped them about. "Oh…sorry. I guess the answer's no then."

"Well, you have now," he said, grinning from ear to ear. The two of them sat the rest of the way in silence until the ship came to a stop waking the doctor from her slumber. The two students chuckled as the doctor groggily stood up, shaking herself awake as she mumbled something about pie. The door behind her opened and the three found themselves staring once again at Shade.

It took them a minute to exit the ship, having to carefully step out of the now silent bullhead due to their injuries. Stepping onto the marble walkway, the Courier watched as bullheads landed beyond the small landing he and his faunus friend found themselves standing in. After staring for a moment, he looked back over to his friend. For the first time since the two officially met, the student had adopted a look of pure sadness on his face. After grabbing the medical brace from the bullhead, the Courier turned around and patted the student on the back. The other student gave him a rather tired smirk in return, his floppy ears still drooping.

They walked through the double doors, finding themselves in a medical room. The doctor shambled in, reading something on her scroll. The two walked out of the room and into the hallway, and the faunus began looking down the hallways, a confused expression on his face. Flipping a switch on the side of the Pip-Boy, the Courier watched at the device flickered to life. Pressing the third button under the screen marked DATA, he found himself staring at the only map available. The orange lines contrasted with the dark screen to display a map created from the built in sensors of the Pip-Boy. After looking over the map he made when he decided to walk around the previous night he tapped on his friend's shoulder and pointed to the right.

"You boys might want to head towards the amphitheatre," said the doctor from behind them. Turning around to face her, they stared incredulously as she indulged her inner child, spinning herself around rapidly on a chair. "You're going to be late for your team assignment."

The two students stood there for a moment as she spun, letting out a laugh at the end as she enjoyed the feeling of dizziness. While they both understood with perfect clarity the implications of what she said, neither moved a muscle, their mouths still slightly open from shock. It took them twenty seconds before they began to move towards the opposite direction in a panic, "running" through the hallways as fast as their injuries would allow. The Courier watched in amazement as his friend blazed forward on his crutches with a speed that rivaled that of a golden gecko on a Turbo high. Every time the two came to a stop he would wait for the Courier to catch up, bouncing up and down as he checked his Pip-Boy for the correct direction.

After ten minutes of searching they came to a set of double doors next to a plaque which read "Amphitheatre" in a strange font. Opening it as quietly as possible, the two found themselves staring out at a darkened, two story amphitheatre. The top floor contained numerous bolted rows of cushioned folding seats, with pillars holding up the ceiling behind each set of rows. While some seats remained empty, many students could be seen watching the team assignments. The bottom floor consisted of a raised stage, where the headmaster stood speaking while a group of four students faced him, their bodies illuminated by the studio lights hanging from the ceiling, and a large open floor, where a large crowd stood.

Every member of the crowd in the center stared at the holographic screens that hung above the headmaster. There were four faces projected onto the screens, with the letters 'G' 'L' 'D' and 'S' coming together in a sliding animation as the Headmaster continued speaking.

"-White. Congratulations," he said before whispering something to the team as they left. The two students met his gaze and he smiled, nodding at them subtly before he continued speaking.

"Noire Pinot, Achilles Yarrow, David Evergreen, and Roland Pallid, please step forward."

Four students walked upon the stage after he called their names. The young man who fell rather ungraciously to the ground before the Courier's turn walked nervously onto the stage, followed by the student who had stood behind the Courier as he jumped and two other male students he did not recognize. The word "PEAR" appeared on the screen as the letters under their names came together to form.

"From this day forth, you shall be known as team Pear, led by David Evergreen. Congratulations!" Lyons said, as one of the students the Courier didn't recognize, who wore grey armor with some yellow patches, saluted the man before they all walked off the stage, to the sounds of polite applause.

"Brawnz Ni, May Zedong, Nolan Porfirio, and Roy Stallion, please step onto the stage."

The Courier smiled as he watched the two he had met the other day stepped up to the stage along with their partners. He tapped his friend on his shoulder and tilted his head towards the crowd of people near the stage. The two walked forward as the Headmaster continued, ignored by the students sitting in numerous rows of seats on the second floor of the amphitheatre. On the screen letters again appeared and formed the word "BRNZ".

"-team Bronze, led by Brawnz Ni. Good work today, all of you!"

The look of shock on Brawnz face was soon replaced with a confident smirk as he put his hand on the May's shoulder and nodded. As the four left, Roy caught sight of the two injured students and pointed to them while whispering to Brawnz. The newly christened leader looked over and gave a two finger salute to his friend as they fell into the crowd, a polite applause welcoming them back.

"Kumiho Myeong, Lili Laurent, Cu Rain, and Caleb please come forward." Lyons said as the applause ceased.

If the Courier's heart wasn't made of plastic metal and circuitry, it would have skipped a beat. He always hated being near the center of attention, let alone being exactly in the center as he noticed he and his partner seemed to be due to their injuries. The Courier at least sighed in relief as most of the students' attention seemed to be on his friend as he hobbled forward on his crutches.

The four made it onto the stage, and the Courier stood on the far right, looking over to the three students to his left. To his immediate left stood the faunus he had carried on his back for just under eight kilometers. The corslet wearing spearman stood tall next to the Courier, wearing a smile which exuberated a combination of overexcited-ness and relief. Beyond him were two girls, each with an impressive weapon on their backs.

The girl immediately to the left of Cu Rain, Kumiho Myeong, who he recognized from the bullhead, created a contrast with the tall faunus. She stood to just above a half a meter below Cu Rain, but gave off feelings of confidence and strength. She wore an open fur lined wine colored leather jacket over an orange t-shirt and black jeans, her orange fox tail sticking out the back of the latter. On her back sat a large two headed battle axe, a bundle of barrels where the tip of the heft would be. She looked back at the Courier and her eyes widened in recognition. She gave him a dry smirk and a nod of acknowledgement, before looking back towards the headmaster.

The Courier recognized the last girl as the one who had been giving him glares before initiation. She stood just a few centimeters shorter than him, but she lacked the confidence that her partner exuberated. Her body was covered in white clothing, from her word filled t-shirt to the slacks which went down to her ankles. On her back sat the most massive sniper rifle the Courier ever saw, dwarfing even the Anti-Material Rifles that Veteran Rangers used. She looked back at him as he looked at her, and she gave him an apologetic glance while looking to the side with her eyes, her wolf ears flat against her head. The Courier looked forward when the headmaster began to speak, noticing the ord "CRML" forming on the holographic screens.

"From this day forth you shall be known as team Caramel, led by Caleb!"

 _What?! Oh no..._

The Courier's face went pale, and he felt that he was going to vomit again. He was about to question the decision when a rather large amount of applause came from behind him, along with the feeling of a hand slapping against his armor. Looking over to his new team he found they were either smiling or giving him a thumbs up. In all honesty, he felt like passing out. He said a quiet thanks to the headmaster out of a sense of politeness, before walking off the stage, his team following close behind. As his team stepped off the stage, he barely heard the headmaster calling the next team up to the stage.

"Nebula Violette, Dew Gayl, Gwen Darcy, and Olivia Ember, please step forward."

He watched as the four girls walked up and onto the podium, bowing their heads slightly in respect towards the old headmaster. They each looked at each other with smiling faces as the old headmaster finished, the word "NDGO" formimg on the screen above them.

"From this day forth you will be known as team Indigo! And you will be led by Nebula Violette."

The Courier barely continued standing when he found himself with an arm around his neck. He fought the now hardwired instinct to throw the individual touching his neck onto the ground, knowing the dreadlock headed student meant no harm from the gesture. He stared blankly at Roy Stallion, whose grin could match a deathclaws in terms of wideness.

"That concludes this year's naming of teams. To all students, both new and returning, I am proud to officially welcome you to Shade Academy."

There was a cheer from the group around him and he regretted not putting his hands over his ears. After the shouting died down and the groups began to disperse, the Courier found himself in a rather large group. Roy let go of his neck and began to mingle with the large group.

As the Courier sighed in relief at his neck being released he felt several flat blows on his back. Each carried an impressive strength and he stumbled forward briefly before catching himself. Looking back, he found himself looking down at his fox-tailed teammate, who was giving him a rather wide grin.

"Caleb, right?" she asked, smiling wider when the Courier nodded. "I just wanted to thank you for what you did."

"Er… did I do something for you?" he asked confusedly.

"Well, I meant thanks for saving Cu Rain. Most humans wouldn't risk their lives like that for a faunus." The Courier frowned at that, knowing at least a dozen individuals who would. "But I guess I should really say thanks for proving my dumbass cousins wrong."

"I'm pretty sure anyone else here would have done the same thing," he said shrugging.

"Maybe," she said sighing. "Regardless, though, please never do something so stupid as fighting a deathjaw by yourself." She looked back at him and scrunched her face in confusion. The Courier stood there, just staring over her head for a minute in complete silence. As soon as his brain began to work again, he looked down to find her waving her hand in front of his face.

"Did you say … deathjaw?"

"Yeah, you didn't know what that grimm was called?" she asked, mild horror tipping her soft voice.

"Ah-tha-ha-hah-" the Courier started before descending into uncontrollable laughter. Some of the other students looked at him strangely and he saw Kumiho back up slowly reaching back towards her weapon.

"Caleb," she said worriedly, "Am I going to have to use this?"

"HAH! Heh...huh… nah," he said as his laughter died down. "Sorry, it's just, that name reminded me of this one lying asshole I met a few months ago."

"Oh?" she asked, letting go of her weapon as the other students decided to continue their conversations.

"Yeah, I owe him an apol-URK," the Courier responded before being interrupted by the force of a push on his back. Looking behind him he found himself facing the eight students he had met outside of the landing zone, the members of the newly christened teams BRNZ and NDGO. They all looked at him impassively, the three he had met the first day going so far as to fold their arms over their chests to complete the angry parent image.

"So, Caleb," Violette began, her voice cutting and dark.

"We heard that our friend," Brawnz continued, making what little hair remained on the back of the Courier's neck to stand up on edge.

"Who we have been told hadn't eaten for four days prior to initiation," one of the members of team NDGO spoke up. The Courier heard his new teammate gag behind him in shock.

"Threw up after his big fight with the deathjaw," the girl in the green dress said, her eyes glaring accusingly at him.

The Courier was about to explain when the sniper girl he had met earlier spoke up.

"Sorry," she said, shrinking when the Courier looked at her. He opened his mouth to apologize for somehow scaring her when the huntsmen and huntresses in training continued.

"So… being the concerned friends that we are," said Roy, his face surprisingly angry.

"We thought we might ensure our starving friend obtained the," the last member of team BRNZ spoke up, pausing before giving the Courier a sadistic grin, "Nutrition… necessary for his continued function."

The Courier watched as every one of the eight gave him a rather frightening grin, their eyes hidden by their forward tilting heads. For the first time in months, he felt the sensation which he thought had abandoned him in the world of the living: fear.

* * *

 **AN:** **Caleb understands the pain of hip checks. He is now a monster hunter.**

 **Alright, now that my daily dose of weirdness is out of the way, here are some answers to questions you might have:**

 **I'm using metric because I used meters last chapter (mostly so I could do the calculations easier) and I try to stick with what I use as I hate both flip flopping decisions like that in stories about as much as I do retconning. As far as I can tell you, I will do my best to prevent both of those things.**

 **No one brought it up but, in the last chapter, the drop was slightly lower than 15 meters (49 feet) so while a short period (1.75 seconds) as far as drops go, it was VERY substantial. Most people would die if they fell from that height. The Courier survived in part due to three things: Rolling when landing, reinforced bones (this will be explained in a later chapter), and a literally unbreakable (artificial) spine. If he had neither of the latter, he would be extremely lucky to come out with** _ **only**_ **several broken bones.**

 **Those implants and augmentations are why the Courier can, at the very least, match up with SOME of the forces of Remnant.**


	6. Lonesome Roads

**AN: I'm sorry. I am… so sorry. I never intended the wait to be this long. Nor this chapter to be so dialogue heavy.**

 **(Four months into the year And I've already failed in following my resolution. Dammit)**

 **I had a two month long case of writer's block (combined with the inability to focus for more than twenty seconds on ANYTH-ooh, Dark Souls 3-er sor-Ooh when's Monster Hunter Generations coming out… dang) trying to figure out how I'm going to get the arc I planned off the planning board. I hope you guys can forgive me.**

 **Oh… also, the first paragraphs are intentionally repetitive. Thought I might mention that since the friend who proofread it asked about it. I also must apologize. I went back and changed Cu Rain's eye color due to a small oversight. While it's a minor detail, it is nonetheless a change I feel I must apologize for making. Also I added one of the "journal entries" to the start of Chapter Five.**

 **I've read your comments guys and I felt I should mention that the Courier, while weaker and slower (by a small margin mind you), will still be able to keep up with the others. I said he wouldn't be serving ass medium-rare on silver platters-with a loaded baked potato, please-not that he would be given his own on one. When the characters involved aren't facing mooks like beowolves I will at least try to write an even fight.**

* * *

 _-October 7, 2281_

 _History is both a nebulous, wretched cancer, and an unbound, unlimited panacea. It provides a plethora of lessons to those willing to learn from it while also being an unlimited source of regrets for those who chose to never let go. It often goes without saying that focusing on the present is the only way to truly move through life with any semblance of happiness, and such a statement would be absolutely and unequivocally true._

 _Yet we still cling to our past mistakes without so much as losing our grips, despite all of the world telling us to let our mistakes go._

" _Can I just go one week without someone trying to kill me?... Please?"_

 _-Caleb, Courier Six_

 **Chapter 6: Lonesome Roads**

 _The broken and cracked road stretched infinitely towards the horizon in the distance, flanked on both sides by a thick translucent mist, hiding everything beyond a few meters. Neither heat nor cold troubled the boy, an early growth spurt making him tall for his young age, as he walked onwards towards the horizon. He continued walking along that road for an unknowable time, either for an eternity or a mere moment, he didn't know, and didn't care. To the boy, all that mattered was walking forward and the tug of the object in his left hand. For the first time in an eternity or for the millionth time in a mere moment he looked at the object in his hand._

 _A twine and beige package paper wrapped object met his gaze. Scribbles of writing could be seen on the side of the object, describing to the boy the recipient, whom the boy knew without reading long before. After all, he carried the same package an uncountable number of times before, so the odd unfamiliar package somehow felt familiar in his hands. He turned the package over as he began his journey towards the end of the road, waving goodbye to the smiling manager of an unknown Express office. The package and his left arm fell to his side._

 _He walked down the cracked and desolate road for what felt like a moment before deciding to finally look at the package. The beige wrapped package in his hands felt strangely familiar, as if he'd seen the package before. On a whim, he turned the foreign package in his hands around to look at the other side, despite a growing pit in his stomach. On the opposite side to the scribbles and stamps was a single painted image: a large white star surrounded by a circle of twelve smaller stars, all within a blue circle with five vertical red stripes flowing from under the bottom half._

The Courier opened his eyes to the pitch blackness of his room and the soft sounds of his own hyperventilating. Sitting up on the soft bed he placed a hand on his aching head, as he attempted to slow his breathing down. He plopped back down to the bed after a minute or so, his tired eyes throbbing. Looking at the darkened ceiling, he began to be able to see the shapes in the darkness as his eyes adapting to it.

 _I don't think finishing that dream would be conductive to my team's sleep_ he thought to himself as he mentally prepared himself for the day, plopping his head back down to the soft pillow, and wiping the crust out of his eyes.

* * *

"-Friday would from then on be known ice cream day, not to be confused with Wednesday, which was cake day" Octavia finished, gleaming at her teammates.

"... What I wouldn't give to have your dreams for just one night," replied Gwen, sarcasm flooding her tone.

"I know!" Octavia replied, ignoring the sarcasm. "One time, I dreamt my semblance was turning any… erm… body? Source? Volume! Volume of water I touch into chocolate milk!"

"That sounds like it might cause problems down the line though," Dew interjected, a worried expression on her face.

"Please don't encourage her," Gwen said as she placed her head on the table.

"I mean, what if you touched a river that connected with the ocean," Dew continued, ignoring her exasperated friend.

"That's how my dream ended!" Octavia exclaimed. "A chocolatey apocalypse! The Survivors gathered around the few sources of freshwater left. If I had woken up then, the ending would have been ambiguous, with the continued existence of society left up to interpretation" Dew nodded her head in understanding of the dream, a sympathetic look on her face.

"... But then everyone evaporated into chocolate milk and Nebula's grinning head rose in the distance while Gwen and I sat on the shore of the chocolate milk sea."

A silence fell over the other three members as they stared at their strange teammate whose expression refused to change. Each of the team members gave her different looks, from "amused to "disturbed" to "I'm getting choked tonight, aren't I". They remained staring at her until they decided to go back to their lunches, looking across the table as they did so. The carefully constructed silence broke when Dew spoke up.

"So Cu, are you feeling better?" she asked. Cu Rain's head lifted up when he heard the question, a chunk of noodles hanging from his mouth. Slurping the noodles quietly and swallowing, he sighed contentedly. His ears began to move up and down on the side of his head in contentment, and Octavia grinned as if she had just seen a puppy wag its tail so hard it made a drum sound against a table leg. He smiled and opened his grey eyes, giving team NDGO a friendly smirk.

"I'm a bit better than when I went to bed," he replied. "Stomach hurts a bit, but my leg and head feel a bit better. My pride's still in a coma though."

"Well," she said with a chuckle, "aside from your pride, I'm happy to hear you're feeling better! And you, Caleb, how are you holding up?"

There was a long silence as the table waited for a response, when no response came they turned to their resident unknown wastelander, who sat the left of the young wolfhound faunus. The Courier didn't notice them staring at him as he tried clearing his throat with the odd soda he had filled his large cup with, instead only noticing that said soda tasted too much like urined down beer for his taste. As the glob of food finally made it into his stomach he began coughing before taking several small sharp breaths.

"Ugh-Huh?" he groaned in his usual soft tone. "Ugh-Sor-Gh-Sorry"

"You need to chew your food before swallowing, Caleb" Kumiho pointed up from the Couriers left as she patted his back. "Didn't your mom teach you better?"

"Sorry about that," the Courier stated, shrugging before taking another bite of his lunch, chewing it thoroughly. As soon as he finished he found they still stared at him as if waiting for something else. Remembering the question he spoke up again, "Oh, I'm fi-"

"Oh no you don't!" Gwen interrupted. "We got enough of that crap yesterday, Mr. 'I-like to irreparably-damage-my-body-by-walking-on-my-shredded-leg'!" The Courier noticed his partner hanging his head with a rather ashamed frown on his face.

"Sorry," the Courier responded as he looked down at his meal. "That's all I really have."

"Come on, you have to have something!" Dew exclaimed.

"You guys seemed fine with Cu's short answer," the Courier replied, narrowing his eyes and gesturing to his partner.

"He gave details, though," Gwen spoke up, "You seem to think saying a two word statement's a satisfactory answer."

"Might as well drop it guys," Nebula said with a smile and sigh, "I'm pretty sure Caleb will only go below 'fine' if he lost a limb."

"Nah" Kumiho spoke up, grinning, "He's too stubborn to complain about such a minor injury." The others, sans a rather ashamed Cu Rain, laughed at her ribbing of the young wastelander, who subsequently adopted a rather confused expression. The girls at the table continued for a good minute as the teenage wasteland turned back to his meal, jamming his fork into the last bite of his country-fried steak, whose once hard crust became soggy from the brown gravy that absorbed into it like a sponge. He savored the brothy taste and the subtle bitterly creamy flavor of the brown gravy to gain one last bite of pleasure from his finished meal.

"So anyway," Gwen said as she finished laughing, "Caleb, you seemed to be rather interested in History this morning. I don't think there was a moment you weren't writing something down in that notebook of yours. Does it still have blank pages left?"

"Yeah," the Courier replied, "Need it?" Gwen nodded in response, a hopeful expression on her face.

"I'm just glad someone other than me paid more attention to the lecture than the professor" Cu droned out with a thin hint of either distain or jealousy. None of the six girls responded to the rather innocuous remark, and instead all turned their heads to avoid his eyes while red began to tint their faces. They looked anywhere but at the two males at the table, focusing on random tiles or the table itself and stammering out what appeared to be the beginning of a response. An overarching sense of embarrassment filled the air at the table, with only Cu and the Courier free from it.

Scratching his head in confusion at the situation, or in a vain attempt to ignore the implications made at the table, the Courier reached down to his side and pulled up one of the notebooks he had been carting around. Sliding it over to Gwen, he gave her a nod and a friendly smile.

"Keep it as long as you want," he spoke up, breaking the silence. Looking at the time on his Pip-Boy, the Courier got up from the table, the others looking at him briefly. "Sorry. Headmaster wants me to see the Doc' Calendula. I'll see you guys in a while."

The others nodded their heads in farewell or waved as he left, limping down the lane between the long cafeteria tables towards the maze of hallways that made up the bulk of the Combat School. The Courier, being a courier, one whose job requires an innate sense of direction, memorized most of the hallways through the observation of almost unnoticeable landmarks, such as small cracks and patches of missing paint. Following a familiar path he limped past the various students moving through the hallway, and managed to avoid bumping into them, having experienced enough of the cramped life in New Reno to know how. Leaving the building that housed the cafeteria he limped across campus, and entered the slightly smaller building close to the central tower.

As he entered the building he noticed the clean smell that had been overwhelmed by the numerous odors of the students in the other buildings, giving him a clue that the building was seldom occupied by more than a few students at a time. The halls were thinner, indicating that the architects intended for the building to be sparsely occupied. The desert colored walls were occasionally broken by doors opening into what appeared to be offices for the various professors of the academy. Several of the doors were open, allowing him to exchange glances with whichever professor happened to be organizing their materials for the day.

The Courier heard the shouting before he even noticed Professor Bialy standing outside a door, grinning in that sarcastic manner as shouting continued to be heard through the door. The young wastelander sighed at the sight. From what he could tell, someone was laying into poor Professor Laurel, likely for his dress code violations, and the white-bearded Grimm Studies professor took advantage of the free entertainment. As he walked past the door, the older professor gave him an unregretful grin as another professor dragged him inside while grinning sweetly and apologetically towards the passing wastelander.

The Courier closed his eyes and continued on, attempting to ignore the growing screams of muffled, but most likely ear-shattering, rage behind him as he attempted to finally make it to the doctor's office. Some of the professors looked out from their doorways towards the screaming fits as he passed, and paid the injured courier only a passing glance. The history professor's muck up at least gave him the satisfaction of **not** being the center of attention for once, though it made him feel awful for leaving the poor young teacher to his doom.

After another few minutes of walking the Courier found himself standing in front of the academy's Doctor's Office. After waiting a few pregnant seconds, he entered the room and greeted Doctor Calendula… who slept quite loudly on her desk. He blinked for a few seconds at the odd sight, before moving across the office towards the examination table, pulling the removal lever on his Pip-Boy as he approached. Sitting down, the Courier began to take off his duster and desert-brown shirt, placing the Pip-Boy down next to the pile of clothes.

" _Play the guitar. Play it again, My Johnny~ maybe you're cold, but you're so warm ins-"_

 _Auuugh_ the Courier groaned in his head, putting a hand on his forehead. _Whyyyy? Why Johnny Guitar? Of all the constants, why does_ _ **that**_ _freaking song have to be one?_

The Doctor woke up at this, groaning as she groped around for the still playing scroll. After several failed attempts, she finally managed to find and turn off the alarm. Groaning as she stood up and stretched, she finally managed to fully wake up. Scratching her lower back, she turned around and paused as she faced the Courier. She blinked a few times, before speaking up.

"... You're here early," she said blankly.

"Yup," the Courier said succinctly.

"Were you watching me sleep?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"I didn't want to wake you up. That'd be rude."

"Mmmmm. I guess. Hey, can you answer me a question?"

"Uh sure," the boy responded, looking to both sides of the medical office.

"Is it true that Doctor Laurel taught his morning class naked with a throb-" She began to say

"No. No he did not," the Courier responded while closing his eyes in attempt to stop a rather odd image from appearing in his head.

"Oh," she said hanging her head down. She then raised her head up and looked around, smiling awkwardly before continuing. "Er, that's great. I really wouldn't want you kids to be scarred for life by a young, strapping, intell-erm. I mean… I'm really glad I don't have to provide a bunch of kids with therapy. Yeah… that's it."

A silence formed between the two for a minute as she began to gather various pieces of medical equipment, an embarrassed look on her face. The Courier simply watched as the young bright eyed woman hung a stethoscope around her neck, soon after grabbing a small tray with a needle, a sphygmomanometer, a reflex hammer, and a large scroll.

"Alright, Caleb, do you know why we're here?"

"Four point one billion years of evolution?" The Courier asked in response, looking nervously to his left and right.

"No," she said laughing. "I meant why the headmaster wants you to have a medical checkup. We don't have any prior medical information on you… or personal information for that matter. So that means we have to start from scratch!"

"I can give you my medical information if you need it."

"That would be great!" she exclaimed. "How long ago was your last physical?"

"About a year and half ago" the Courier mumbled.

"Ah, then we'd still need to update the information anyway. Though I'll still need that information. Now, I'll ask you some questions as this physical goes on to get a good idea of your general health. I'll also need to take a blood sample. I know it's not standard procedure, but… well... we don't know what's in your system. You might have a blood borne disease that could kill off millions of people... or the common cold. We also need it to determine your blood type. Honestly he should have sent you to me the night you got here."

"O-negative" he responded as she wrapped the sphygmomanometer cuff around his left arm. She typed down some information on the scroll. Looking at it he found the screen displaying his first name at the top, his blood type along with several empty white text boxes on the right half, and an image of his face on the left, above a few lines of information. According to the data under his picture, he was born in a small village called Marron in Southern Vale. There was a small black flower next to the name of the town.

"Ah that actually explains a lot… Hmm…. seventy-eight systolic and fifty-five diastolic… that's not good… have you lost blood in the past month?"

"Yeah. I don't really know how much...feels like half … three quarters of a liter… maybe a little less." _Please don't ask why._

"Definitely need to add Iron and Vitamin B supplements to your diet… Have you been eating regularly?" she asked after tapping down some information in her scroll. Pulling off the now loosening cuff, she wrapped a thick rubber band around near his left elbow.

"Now, yes. I hadn't had much food before getting here though."

"Alright. I'm going to have to ask you to increase your food intake for a while, we don't want you suffering from anemia." She said as she pulled out an empty blood testing syringe. After wiping a part of his arm with an alcohol swab, she removed the rubber band and the cap of the syringe in stuck it in a protruding vein. The syringe filled as she continued, with the process completing after a good thirty seconds. She placed pressure on the wound with a bit of gauze after removing the syringe and placed an adhesive over the bandage.

"Alright, I didn't get a chance to ask questions earlier, so I'll just ask them now. Do you normally take any form of prescription medication?"

"They used to give me Methadone."

"Oh..." She said as she tapped some things on her scroll. "Why did you need painkillers?"

"I had a rather gruesome injury as a child," he said, shrugging. "That was the only prescription medication I was ever needed."

"Well that's good to hear!" She replied cheerfully as she swiped her finger across the scroll. "Do any chronic illnesses such as diabetes or cancer run in your family?"

"I don't know" the Courier responded. "I don't think I'm predisposed to any illnesses.

"Hmm… alright," she said as she squinted her eyes. "Do you drink or smoke?"

"I rarely drink… maybe once or twice a month. I've only smoked twice in my whole life."

"Hmm. That's more than done," she said with a frown. "You really shouldn't be drinking at all. Alright, now, I'm going to have to ask you to take off your shirt and your bandanna scar—"

"No," the Courier said simply.

"Caleb," she said in a voice that emanated the feeling of frustration. "I've seen it all before. You don't have to be emb—"

"No," the Courier said again, shaking his head. "No. Please. Just…Please, can you just use the stethoscope under my shirt? I'm… I'm not taking anything more off. No one needs to see what's under it."

The doctor sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, clearly the result of experiencing something unlikable for what must have been the hundredth time. Slowly she raised her hands in acquiescence to the Courier's demands. Shaking her head she walked forward and began to feel around the young man's torso through the shirt, smiling when he snorted in surprise. He felt her prod around where his organs must have once been, frowning in concentration as she prodded the areas that must have been his kidneys.

After a few minutes of curious prodding she shrugged. Grabbing her stethoscope she began to listen around his chest, asking him to breathe in and out deeply. The Courier continued to follow the directions until he felt her cold fingers slide over his chest. He held his breath as she stopped and slid her fingers over his skin again. He began to sweat as she dropped the stethoscope and began sliding her hand all around his torso, as a look of growing horror appeared on her face. She removed her hand from his chest and the courier waited a moment for the inevitable question.

 _Oh boy, this isn't going to end well for anyone._

The Courier gagged in shock as she grabbed the bottom of his shirt and lifted it so far upwards that the crew neck was just under his chin. On reflex, the wastelander bent his abdomen and his torso back sharply, pushing her by the shoulders away. Ripping off the undershirt from his right arm and face with his left, the young wastelander backed up several steps and adopted a boxing stance, with his back arched slightly and his body twisted so his left hand, holding his crumpled grey undershirt, was in front, as he reached around his waist with his right. After about half a second he realized she meant no harm by blinding him temporarily, and relaxed, moving his hands up to his neck to ensure his cowboy scarf was still in place.

"Sorry. I shouldn't hav-"

"Who did this to you?" She responded tersely, with concerned anger in her voice.

Sighing to himself, the Courier turned his body towards the young doctor, who displayed the appearance of someone blurring the lines between anger and horror. She clenched her lower jaw with her hand, and her brow angled downwards in anger. She studied his bare chest with her eyes narrowed, going over from the bottom to the top, with each second her appearance growing even more furious. Turning towards the mirror above the sink, the Courier finally looked below his neck, nearly bringing himself to vomit in disgust.

The somewhat pale skin of his left arm ended somewhere just a few centimeters into the actual torso, and disappeared into the "skin" of the torso itself. Where years ago the Courier once saw slightly rough skin and flesh, lean muscle giving it a toned and youthful appearance now hung a disgusting, eldritch looking mockery what could only technically be called "skin". Only a few brave patches of relatively unblemished skin remained unflooded by scars. Bullet holes, stab wounds, cuts, burns from flames and plasma, a veritable unholy menagerie of scars covered the entire torso from the bottom of his neck to his waist, with most near the center and sides of his chest. He remembered a few doctors in the past who claimed his chest looked like someone stole his skin, threw it in a wood chipper, and sewed the results back on using rotten black medical fibers. He personally would have added "made into Swiss cheese" at the end but what little humor in the situation would die from that.

Gagging again and closing his eyes, the Courier threw his grey undershirt back on, and leveled an emotionless gaze on the doctor. She breathed in and out a few times, rubbing her head before leveling an angry but concerned glare back at the young man. The two stood there for a moment before she broke the silence.

"Who did this to you?" she asked again, with a little more force behind it.

"I did," the Courier said.

"No," she whispered through gritted teeth, her eyes wide open in anger, "No you didn't."

"I—"

"Did you cut yourself? Stab? Shoot?" she practically yelled.

"No, but—"

"Then who… who hurt you like this?" She asked, concern lining her voice.

"My choices led to this. They scars are disgusting, but with few exceptions, I don't regret what led to them," the Courier said with confidence.

"What kind of messed up world did you come from" She asked, exasperated and horrified.

"One that's slowly getting less messed up, believe it or not," the Courier said, chuckling. "Yet still not as nice as this one."

"Hmph," she exhaled, "I won't let this go. I will _know_ what happened to you, even if I have to shake it out of you. Hmmm...I'm guessing your neck is the same as your chest, isn't it?"

"That is something I _refuse_ to talk about," the Courier said

A silence filled the room as she turned and shook her head, tapping for a while on her scroll as she wrote down the young wastelander's medical information. After several minutes, she turned back around and stared at him for a moment, and sighed. She pointed towards a tall scale near the wall and the Courier walked towards it, no longer carefully hiding the sounds the heavy boot made as he stepped forward. After taking a moment to remove the cumbersome device, the Courier winced slightly as a small jolt of pain ran through his leg when he stepped up onto the scale. The doctor took a moment to balance out the scales, while also using the extendable height rod to measure the young man's height. When the scale was balanced she tapped her scroll several times and then paused, looking between the scale and her own scroll several times before speaking up.

"Why do you weigh over one hundred and thirty-one kilograms?"

"Huh. I lost weight, the Courier said closing his eyes. After a moment or so of silence he opened his eyes and spoke again, having come to a conclusion in his head. "Okay, remember that implant I told you about?"

"The Phoenix one?"

"Yeah," the Courier said while looking out the window, watching some hawk land on one of the small trees planted about the mesa. "I have more than just that."

"How much more?"

"I honestly don't know if I'm more machine or human anymore," he said with a humorless smile on his face. Another round of silence began between the two, as the statement registered in the orange-eyed nurse. After several seconds she took a seat in her chair and began tapping away at her scroll. It took her several minutes to finish tapping, and the Courier had finished redressing long before she finished, but after a few seconds she squinted at her scroll.

"Alright,' she said, tapping the device and swiping her finger across it. "That's all there is for now, it's… ah, it's already one. You should head to combat class, though… uh, you might want to pick up your guns though"

"Got it," the Courier stated as he raised his eyebrow, "I have a couple of guns on me, though, so I'll just… uh head on over there. It's on the west side of campus right?"

"Nope, east" she said cheerily. "Oh the headmaster told me to tell you to come to his office after combat class."

The Courier nodded once before leaving the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. After backtracking through the building the Courier exited the near empty building into the open air of the desert. Following several paths, and once again avoiding the occasional student, the young wastelander found himself on the east side of the campus facing out over a now shady looking desert which rounded downwards as it approached the horizon. The Courier held back a gag at the sheer height he was at, trying not to stumble as he continued forward.

It took little time for him to find the combat class, as the sounds of mild gunfire echoed from down a staircase. After reaching the bottom, which existed on a slightly lower table of the mesa—of possible artificial make, due to the low amounts of erosion on the cliff side—the Courier raised his eyebrows at the various sights that stood before him. Towards the wall to his right stood a dark haired young man surrounded by various students, making gestures and displaying movements while the students nodded and wrote down notes. In contrast to such a scene, to the left the young wastelander witnessed almost two dozen students duking it out in hand to hand, or with melee weapons, with odd bursts of light coming from their bodies every time a blow landed. From down below another set of stairs he heard the same series of gunshots from before, more than likely a shooting range. Considering his injuries, the young wastelander felt that should be his first destination.

However, his attention shifted to the sight straight in front of him. In a large surrounding ring, two students were fighting each other with more power than the various sparring matches to the Courier's left. A small, sparsely-distributed crowd watched from outside a white line as the two students continued duking it out like psychoed out New Reno boxers. He could even hear small explosions from the fight, and flinched in surprise as one of the combatants hit an invisible barrier above the white line. Behind the arena, under the portrait of one of the students a bar ticked down by a chunk. Getting closer, the young wastelander decided to observe their manner of fighting.

About a minute in, the Courier began to think of strategies to fight the faster students on equal footing. While the defending student, who he recognized as Noire Pinot of team PEAR, fought with slower movements than the wastelander and could thus be fought "equally", the young trench-coat wearing youth's opponent moved at speeds even deathclaws couldn't match. While the faster student had just taken a serious blow hard enough to send him flying, he managed to recover quickly and dashed towards Noire, flapping the eagle wings that stretched from under his arms to his shirtless torso to increase his speed.

The Courier blinked in surprise and quickly studied the student's wings, and began observing the manner in which they played into his fighting style. The faunus dodged shot after shot of fire, ice and wind that Noire shot from the grey crystal tipped end of his staff, using his wings to propel him left, right, and above the shots. As the winged student closed in Noire flipped his staff around, allowing the young wastelander to observe the polished machete like blade attached blade that sprang from the base. Attempting a horizontal slash, Noire watched as his blade sailed under the feet of his opponent, who, having used his wings to allow him to continue his charge just a meter off the ground, slashed his blades in an 'X' motion, sending Noire flying. Right as Noire hit the edge of the ring, a buzzing sound filled the air, and the eagle faunus walked over to the young staff wielder and helped pick him off the ground, saying a few things to him as they left the ring. Two new students entered the ring, and the Courier nodded in understanding.

He left right as new blows began to sound from the arena, and began to walk down the stairs towards what he hoped was a shooting range, and not a dueling arena. He found himself relieved when he reached the bottom the stairs, where various students stood or laid down near a cliff edge, firing dozens of shots out into the distance. Behind them, near the cliff edge a large pit could be seen with waist high bars blocking it from access. Staring at it further, he realized the pit was an elevator shaft, and that there were more gunshots coming from the bottom. Looking at the small number of students that fired from the top, he noticed that they all wielded some sort of high powered rifle. Smiling to himself he walked towards where the ground stopped, meeting with a cliff that rose into the air, where he noticed his teammate Lili firing her powerful rifle at something in the distance.

Looking to his left, the Courier snorted and smiled dryly, figuring that like everything else in Remnant, even the strangest things classified as mundane. Out in the distance he watched as small, young, and simple grim moved about near specific devices, or towards the cliff itself, only to die from either the small amount of sniper fire from atop the cliff, or from the gunners who took the elevator down. The wastelander nodded as he watched on, glad to be at an academy which knew how to train future grimm killers by actually having them kill grimm on a regular basis.

Standing next to his teammate he watched as she searched the horizon for a grimm to kill, one which wouldn't affect the others' practice. The Courier sat down to her left, finally getter her attention, as she made a quiet yelp as he plopped to the ground. She stared at him in apprehension for a few moments before deciding to go back to firing her sniper rifle.

"Need a spotter?" the Courier asked.

"... Yes...Thank you." she said quietly, with a voice that reminded the young wastelander of some of the French women he had seen in old movies. Smiling, the young wastelander began pointing the various grimm she could snipe, and watched as she began her work.

* * *

"Yo! Lili! Caleb!"

The Courier, his back propped up against the cliff side rising up to the flat area that composed most of the training area, watched as Kumiho approached them, her jacket slung over her shoulder. Her face was covered in sweat from exhaustion and she had a small, insignificant cut over her right eyebrow.

"Need a bandage?" the Courier asked, pointing above her head.

"Aww, how sweet," she cooed, before giving a friendly if amused chuckle "It's a small cut man, it'll stop in a bit. Thanks for the concern though."

"Did the arena fail?" Lili practically whispered.

"Nah," the dark clothed girl responded, "I just decided that I could spar after my aura was in the red. Got a nasty bruise on my back." The orange haired girl rubbed a lower part of her back some before giving an uneasy smile to the other two members of the team. There was a terse silence between the three students for a good two minutes.

"Anyway," the orange haired girl said, breaking the silence, "combat class is almost over, so… wanna hit the dusty trail?

He chuckled at the way she slowly spoke the last lines. Standing up, he nodded as the two girls followed behind as he limped up the stairs. A series of chimes filled the area and most of the students began dropping what they were doing. As the three members of team CRML climbed the stairs, they met their fourth member at the top, happily discussing something with the black haired teacher. The teacher gave an appraising look at the young spearman as he continued before nodding his head and responding. The conversations around the members of team CRML made it difficult for the young wastelander to hear the conversation but he could have sworn the phrases "Schnee Dust Corporation", "Solar Power", and "the Iron Woods" were dropped.

After a farewell, the young spearman turned around and noticed his team waiting for him. In a quick motion for a man on crutches, the young student joined with his team on their journey back to their dorm. No one had to attend any additional classes that day, and they figured that they all could use a shower. Halfway to the dorm however the Courier remembered his meeting with the headmaster, and he slip up from his team for the second time that day.

 _I hope I'm not setting a precedent,_ he thought

The Courier walked towards the central tower, observing the various students as he made his way to the center. Standing outside the double doors which led to what the young wastelander could only assume to be a long, elevator ride, he took a deep breath and entered. In the cool, air-conditioned bottom floor the young man found himself debating whether or not to ride the elevator, knowing there were only glass windows separating the youth from a painful, fruitless death.

After a minute or so of deliberating the young man stepped into the elevator, which after a momentary shudder which made the Courier think of shooting out the glass separating him from safety, began to rise. For the young man, the ride felt as if it lasted an hour, but by the time the thirty second mark had passed, the doors had opened and he quickly walked inside the office.

"Ah," the elderly headmaster stated, "Welcome, Mr. Caleb! Ah! Don't take a seat just yet!"

The Courier did not respond as he watched the headmaster rise, the sunlight giving his greatcoat an experienced and distinguished appearance. The fur-lining near the collar shined in the sunlight in such a way as to appear to be a lion's mane. He walked over to the windows and looked out towards the horizon.

"Such a beautiful landscape, wouldn't you agree?"

"If you say so," the Courier responded, looking upwards away from the windows.

"Mr. Caleb, Dr. Calendula sent to me just a few hours ago, information regarding the results of your physical," he said with a stern air. "As well as information on your… extensive injuries."

 _Oh dammit!_ The wastelander thought.

"After looking at your injuries, I decided to rewatch the footage from the initiation, and I have one question for you Mr. Caleb." The headmaster turned around, giving the Courier a level stare. "Does your world know about Aura?"

"No, sorry" the Courier responded quickly, meeting the gaze of the headmaster. "If we did, we lost the information during the war two hundred and four years ago."

"I'm guessing you don't know what a semblance is either?" the headmaster asked.

"I do not, sir," the Courier replied, earning a sigh from the headmaster.

"Aura is the physical manifestation of a soul, Mr. Caleb. It aids us in battle, keeps us safe, strengthens us, and follows us farther than any companion. It is a part of us that walks besides us in battle, like a steadfast guardian" the headmaster stated, pride in his voice. "A semblance is an extension of Aura; a projection into this world of that which makes every one of us a warrior. It is a unique ability which affects all hunters' daily lives.

"And today, Mr. Caleb. I am going to unlock yours," the elderly headmaster finished with a satisfied smirk. The Courier hesitated for a moment.

"Is this 'Aura' what allows the students to fight without being hurt?"

"Indeed, Mr. Caleb. You seem to be accepting this all faster than I would expect!" The headmaster exclaimed cheerily, only to get a dry chuckle out of the Courier.

"Well sir, I've seen and experienced my fair share of the impossible. After seeing the things I saw, I'll believe just about anything given enough proof."

"I see. Are you ready?" the headmaster asked. After seeing the young man nod his head, the headmaster slowly approached the young student. "I'm going to need you to close your eyes Mr. Caleb."

Following the elderly man's directions, the Courier slightly flinched when he found a hand on his shoulder and over his heart. Then he heard… no… _felt_ the words the headmaster flow through his body, like a clean, crisp river flowing coolly through his entire being.

 _For it is in passing that we achieve immortality._

 _Through this, we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all._

 _Infinite in distance_

 _And unbound by death,_

 _I release your soul, and by my shoulder, protect thee._

The Courier opened his eyes to find the old man standing there in front of him, an exhausted smile on his face, but standing firm. He felt a warm light flow through his body through every organ system, both artificial and natural. He felt immediately connected to all of the world, as if he were part of its very heart and soul. Looking at his hands he could see a faint yellow glow outline his arms, and he could once again feel the warmth of that light.

The pleasant feelings stopped with the sounds that he could hear only in his mind. The glass walls of the office stood sturdy and unbroken, and yet he could hear the sounds of a million windows breaking simultaneously in his ears.

Then he looked at the light on his arms.

The pale yellow glow burned bright for a second, and he noticed innumerable cracks formed in what could have been described as a beautiful yellow shell. When the light faded into his body, he began to hunch over in absolute misery. He wanted to scream, to bite his own tongue off in sheer agony. He felt as if a million tiny glass shards flowed through his entire vascular system from his toes all to the way to his cranium. He began to scratch at his eye, trying to remove the invisible glass shard that he felt inside of it. He collapsed onto his knees and clenched his teeth harder as the pain only increased as the clock ticked on. He felt compassionate arms carry him into what could be described as a comfortable chair had his body not felt like it was currently being fed to a paper shredder.

The Courier had never felt such agony in his life before.

It took five minutes for the pain to finally die down completely, and his arms continued shaking as the sounds of shattering glass muted in his mind. The only sounds the young courier could hear were his breathing and a coughing from the headmaster.

"I don't know if I should be impressed or horrified that you have enough pain tolerance to actually go through that without passing out like most huntsmen would" he said dryly. "But I'm happy to see you're alright."

"Wh-wh-"

"Mr. Caleb, do you know what you just experienced"

"No," the Courier stated.

"A broken aura, Mr. Caleb… and it is all the proof I need to have you sent to Dr. Calendula for psychological therapy."

"What?" the Courier asked.

"What do you think causes a broken Aura?" the elderly headmaster asked a stern emphasis in his voice.

"I… I guess… The Cybernetics I have," the Courier said with an apologetic grin. The headmaster stared at the young man for a few moments before sighing.

"I'm sorry, Caleb."

"Er… what?"

"Mr. Caleb, a broken aura is a symptom of a divide between the soul and the mind, and is always a symptom of minds which put themselves through hell itself. More often than not, this hell is called Post-Traumatic-Stress Disorder." the headmaster repeated.

"PTSD? I don't thin-"

"Mr. Caleb. I hate lies. No … I detest them," the old man interrupted, looking down as he spoke. "I hate seeing horrors made far worse because of them. I hate how they result in men coming home broken physically and mentally. I especially hate how I let my wife lie to you all about the initiation."

Owyn let out a sigh and paused for half of a minute before continuing. "And I loathe the truth that I withheld from you."

The Courier shrugged, giving the old headmaster a friendly smile, letting him know that he was used to it. This only made the old man respond with a tried gaze.

"Surely whatever it is isn't that bad?"

"Mr. Caleb," the headmaster stated clearly for the young wastelander to hear. "The truth of the matter is that your skill is only half of the reason I brought you here. The other half is why I 'threw you to the beowolves' so to speak." The Courier tilted is his head in curiosity.

"When I met you and I looked into your eyes…for a moment, I saw someone besides Caleb." The Courier stared at him, a frown forming on his face in concentration as he sunk into the leather chair.

"I told myself during that meeting we four had: 'He's just in shock over the colony. He's too young to have seen true horror'" The headmaster said as he shook his head dismissively. "But when you looked out towards the sands of the Avarus Rex… you still had that look. So when we arrived I left you to socialize with the other students, hoping that it was still just shock, and the presence of others would help mend those wounds. But now… this."

"So what?" the Courier asked. "Because my Aura's broken, you think I have freaking PTSD? I still think it's because I have all these cybernetics."

"If that was the case then I know of at least two people besides yourself who would suffer from broken auras. No, Mr. Caleb, this is a problem that we as a society have sadly only recently begun to understand," the Old headmaster said, once again shaking his head, but with a rather melancholic tempo rather than dismissive. "Battles leave scars in places the eyes cannot see, where they are hidden. And all I dare to say to you, Caleb, is that you hide your scars well."

There was a silence between the two as the clock on the wall ticked away, and they continued to stare at each other over the desk. The Courier tilted his head back and rested it against the chair before breaking the silence.

"I don't mean any offense, but what does any of that have to do with Aura? Where is the link between it and a person's mind?"

"Aura is greatly affected by mental status, Mr. Caleb. We have many cases every year of huntsmen and huntresses going through the very thing you are going through right now. All I can tell you, Mr. Caleb, is that continuing to hide it… continuing to lie about it… It will only bring you pain."

"I'm fine Head-"

"You are not 'fine' _Mr. Caleb_ " the headmaster interrupted, giving the Courier the glare of a concerned and angry father. **"** I may be foolish for only realizing now, but I am no idiot. I refuse to watch you kill yourself like this. If I must, I will give your friends the information to help you, with or without your consent, and they will be the ones browbeating you, not me!" The old man shouted before he began stroking his beard. "Maybe I should regardless."

"Please n- Why? I don't… I don't deserve this," the Courier said in a despondent voice. His eyebrows pressed down and he could feel his lips part and his teeth clench slightly in discomfort. Owyn observed this and sighed.

"Why?" He simply said, "Why do this to yourself? Why won't you let us help you?"

The Courier breathed in for a moment, holding it before releasing it. He relaxed his posture and slumped forward. When he looked up he knew his eyes had once again betrayed his mind by the headmaster's saddening expression.

"I've handled it on my own for a while… I don't want people to worry about me. Besides," he said looking down, "I deserved this."

"Mr. Caleb, you and I both know that's a lie," the headmaster stated with pure compassion.

"Maybe," the Courier said with a sigh. "I'm heading back to the dorm. Have a nice day."

"Mr. Caleb," the headmaster stated sternly, causing the young man to stop in his tracks. "Dr. Calendula will bring you a bottle of pills later tonight. I want you to follow her instructions to the letter. Furthermore, you **will** see her for therapy once every three days, until your issues are resolved"

"... I hate being rude sir, but, what exactly makes you think I'll make attempts to attend the therapy?" the young Courier asked.

"You don't want your team to suffer right? You are their leader. If you suffer, they suffer. By alleviating your own suffering you can alleviate theirs," headmaster Lyons stated, a slight undertone of regret in his voice.

"... Dammit," the Courier whispered as he entered the elevator to head back down. The elevator ride was quiet, and he didn't experience the same panic as when he went up to the office. Silently walking back to the dorms he stopped himself before entering the dorm, stealing his face from his previous anger.

"Hey Caleb," Cu Rain spoke from his bed, his scroll in his hand. "What'd the headmaster wanna talk to ya' about?"

"Nothing, really… Just wanted to ask me a few questions about adjusting."

"Alright," the other male said.

"It's almost five now, though," Kumiho spoke up. "Think we should head to dinner."

"If the question involves eating food," the Courier spoke up, a smile on his face. "The answer is always yes."

"...Unless it's toxic," Cu Rain added.

"Right. Unless it's toxic," the Courier repeated.

* * *

 **AN: This chapter can also be called: Lonesome Roads or: Why being a Fallout Protagonist sucks.**

 **I mean, you're shot at, stabbed at, blown up, taken advantage of in multiple ways, and you never get to experience the joys of scrambled pornography on the television.**

 **But… yeah, I actually want to see where I can take this, and I hope you do too.**

 **Oh, and one more thing before the Omake (Yes, I'm doing that, because why not?) The "Combat Class" in this story is a supervised pseudo-free period in which the students are expected to work on either tempering their weaknesses or building upon their strengths, whether that's through "target" practice, sparring, having a grizzled hunter explain combat techniques, or the straight out fights seen in the show. It's a system designed around practice rather than theory like in the show (as the students probably took more mental notes than spend time actually fighting in that class, even with the super speedy fights).**

* * *

Omake: Who's George Washington Carver?

The Courier flopped down onto the bed, enjoying the freedom of finally having the giant boot removed. He began to doze off when he smelled something in the air which he knew he had never smelled before. Sitting up he looked around the room only to find himself staring at his partner.

"Hey Cu?"

The dog faunus looked up, licking the last bits of a brown paste off his lips, but not before opening and closing his mouth several times, and creating a smacking sound.

"Yeah bud?"

"What are you eating?" the Courier asked, his eyebrow raised. Cu Rain narrowed his eyes.

"Peanut Butter— and yeah! I know! A dog faunus eating peanut butter out of a jar! Look I like the taste, and not because I'm a dog eithe-"

"What's Peanut Butter?" the Courier asked, his head tilted. Cu dropped the large plastic jar onto the floor where only one or two globs shot out and stained the hardwood material. The young faunus then began to get teary eyed.

"That is, without a doubt, the saddest thing I've ever heard," Cu said, before sniffing. The Courier was tackled by his friend who held his head in his chest like he was a child being comforted. "But don't worry your head! Cu here will teach you the wonders of Slippy, Gip, and Porter Pen."

The Courier gulped. Fifteen minutes later Kumiho walked into the dorm to find her teary eyed leader tied to his bed being force fed spoonfuls of peanut butter. She wisely shut the door as she immediately left the dorm room.


	7. Orange Colored Sky

**AN: Sorry for the wait!**

 **I'm really happy! Finally! I can start the new plot arc! Goodbye introduction arc, goodbye initiation arc, hello plot arc number one.**

 **Happy Father's day!**

* * *

 _-October 10, 2281_

 _There are those who seek for proof that man can do more than just destroy, and spend their entire lives searching and finding nothing. One could hardly find worse evidence than settlements in which they search. From the ground up, man builds shelters to protect their family, then communities, for their neighbors, and infrastructure, to ensure everyone's continued existence. Many will decry them as simple survival measures, and see them as selfish yet rational ventures, and while there may be truth in cooperation for survival's sake, it is still difficult to decry their existence as selfishly motivated when they welcome newcomers into their fold._

" _Look, I serve meat here! If you want veggie burgers, go to Mistral!"_

 _-Market Vendor from Vacuo_

 **Chapter 7: Orange Colored Sky**

"Steak?" Cu asked, looking for a clean shirt in the locker.

"Steaks were my bread and butter for five years," The Courier replied, tying the strings on his left leather boot, welcoming the familiar footwear on his recently freed foot. He smiled at the slightly rough feeling of the leather boot through his long socks beige slacks.

"Phew," Brawnz whistled from the Couriers left, his eyes raising as he placed a recently finished water bottle into the locker. The other boys had already left for either their rooms or the town, leaving only the male members of teams BRNZ and CRML to finish redressing themselves after washing off the sweat that came with the heat from the scorching summer day. Luckily, the sweaty body odor that had flooded the locker room had been replaced with the sterile scent of soap. "How about chicken?"

"They served fried chicken for dinner yesterday," the Courier responded, before rubbing his stomach. "It was delicious."

"Hmm…" Nolan hummed from behind, before snapping his fingers, "Have you ever had a burger?"

"Burger?" The Courier responded, looking up across the aisle.

"You know, a hamburg-" Nolan began again.

"I don't eat pork," the Courier interrupted, a stern look on his face. The others stood still for a minute before turning towards the wastelander with confused expressions on their faces. The Courier quickly figured he should have just lied and said yes, but he truly hated pork.

"By the First!" Cu responded. "Ya' never had a burger?"

"As I said, I don't eat po-" The Courier began.

"It's not actually ham man," Roy interrupted, as he began to take of his shirt, baring his chest to the world. "It's named after some old gastro- gastroentero-food person, Silva Hamburg- who came up with the brilliant idea of placing a patty of cooked ground beef between—preferably toasted, in my opinion—bread buns. The fact that you think it's made from pork...honestly scares me man. It's like-like-I-ugh-erm don't have the words for-"

"A life without burgers is a life not worth living," Cu finished, turning to the Courier. "Honestly, the only thing worse I can think of is if you've never had barbeque."

"Barbeque?" the Courier asked.

"Do ya' say these things just to make me depressed?" Cu responded, a distressed look on his face, the surrounding boys grimacing with him. "Because that's how ya' make me depressed."

"Look, I've truly never had barbecue. Is it good?" Caleb asked, only to be met with silent stares.

"Is it good?" His partner parroted, "Is it good? IS IT GOOD?! Barbecue is the _greatest_ thing to _ever_ be created by man or faunus. It is pure bliss in meaty form! Imagine, if ya' will, the aroma of burning hickory wood, that powerfully sweet scent, captured by the meat placed in such a position it is only cooked by the smoke itself, leaving the outside a fleshy pink like color, and giving the meat a rough texture and a somewhat dry, smoky, soury-sweet taste. The smoky flavor allow for one to experience all of the world's good distilled into a single, delectable chunk of meat."

"Dammit Cu!" Nolan exclaimed, holding his stomach. "You're making me hungry!"

"I'm making me hungry!" Cu responded, gesturing into the air. Turning back to his locker he began to search around, groping his hands for something on the various shelves. "Where's my shirt?"

"If you want I could loan you one of my spare undershirts," the Courier chimed in opening his locker."

"I'm still curious how you managed to change in that small-as-crap locker," Nolan pitched

"I still want to know why you had to in the first place," Brawnz stated bluntly before blinking and giving the Courier a curious glance. "Or why you showered in the corner."

"Sorry, but I'd rather people food stay inside their stomachs," the wastelander responded with a shrug, to which the others responded by simply staring at him. The Courier glanced at each of their faces in rapid succession for about a straight minute. A small drop of either sweat or shower water trickled down the back of his neck as he slowly closed his locker door, throwing the t-shirt to his partner. His partner caught the grey undershirt out of the air without taking his eyes of the wastelander, and continued to stare as he put the shirt on, covering his chest and bandaged stomach. The Courier turned when Brawnz put his hand on the Courier's shoulder.

 _I'm going to have to answer personal questions aren't I?_ The wastelander asked himself.

"Hey man, we're here for you," Brawnz said as he began to pat the wastelander on the shoulder.

 _...What._

"Yeah," Cu spoke up, patting the Courier's other shoulder, and nodding. The Courier blinked at the sudden appearance of his partner next to him when just a moment before he had been across the locker room. "Ya' made it here! It shouldn't matter if ya' have a bit of flab or not. Besides, I can help ya' get abs. I can help ya' get _amazin'_ abs."

"What," the Courier asked flatly.

"Honestly though Caleb, I can't really feel any fat anyway," Cu said as he tapped the Courier's side, "I don't know what you're so worried about."

"What… flab… fat? What?" the Courier asked as his face contorted in confusion.

"You were worried we would make fun of ya' for having a bit o' gut right?" Cu asked. "That's why ya' changed in your locker, right?"

"No…" the Courier said as he lifted his shirt collar slightly down, to which the others gave him a look of surprise. "I have a couple of surgery scars that look rather nasty. I'd rather people not see them."

"Oh that makes more sense," Brawnz said as he nodded his head, before blinking twice. "Wait. Surgery? What kin-"

"Can we see them?" Nolan piped up, to which the Courier responded with a blank stare. Nolan shrugged at the stare before speaking up. "I'm just saying what everybody is thinking."

"No seriously, what kind of sur-" Brawnz started.

"Yeah man!" Roy shouted as he turned around, displaying his abs for the entire world, while causing Brawnz to smack his own face with his palm at his interruption. "Scars are badass! Proudly display your chest to the world like a man!" The Courier could have sworn he heard a girl gasp, and looked around before shrugging.

"I think we're missing the point here, boys," Cu stated.

"Yes," Brawnz said, looking to the ceiling, while making a gesture of gratitude. "Thank You! Now, Caleb, Wh-"

"Caleb has never had barbecue in his entire life," Cu practically shouted, as he pointed at his partner. "This is a travesty that must be undone!"

"You know," Nolan said, "Cu, you are absolutely right!"

"...You know what, screw you guys," Brawnz said in a disappointed tone, as his question was derailed again, and the other three boys besides himself and the Courier began discussing food again. He closed his locker swiftly, causing a clang that overwhelmed the conversation that had begun between the other boys in the locker room for a second before they picked it back up.

"Sorry?" The Courier half asked, looking at his exasperated friend, only to receive a deadpan stare in response, along with a sigh.

"Not you," Brawnz replied plainly as he pinched his nose. "But, how… never mind," Brawnz finished before gesturing his hand, the little and ring fingers clenched, back and forth. The Courier could easily see the frustration the young leader expressed through body language, and empathized with the youth, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"-Then it's decided," Nolan exclaimed, catching the two leaders' attention. "Porky's for lunch tomorrow, and then we hit up the town!"

"Shouldn't decisions like that be left to us leaders?" Brawnz asked with a deadpan expression, the left corner of his lips scrunched and his eyes half lidded.

"Do you have a problem with go-" Roy began, with a worried expression.

"No, I also think Caleb needs to try barbecue," He interrupted with a smug grin.

"You shouldn't interrupt people," Nolan spoke up, missing Brawnz's scowl, eye twitch, and gurgling. The Courier winced, as if he heard a scream of pure fury and bloodlust.

"They...uh, serve things other than pork right?" the Courier asked as he felt his eyebrows scrunch in a concerned expression.

"Yeah but," Nolan said, "What's your beef with pork anyway?"

"That was bad," Cu chimed in, while also sporting a grin.

"I don't want to talk about it," The Courier replied darkly while looking down. The others traded glances, and shrugged at their friend's sudden sullenness. A brief minute of silence filled the room, and only the occasional cough broke the awkwardness. Standing up the Courier made to leave.

"So, uh," Brawnz piped up, "I guess we'll meet at the train station at around… ten… ish?"

"Sounds like a plan," piped up Cu, before standing up with a grunt, and grabbing his crutches again. "But all that talk about lunch's making me hungry. Whaddya say Caleb? Get some grub?"

The Courier simply nodded as he opened the doors to the myriad hallways that made up the academy, and began to walk out, only to halt when he heard a faint cry of "no" from one of the lockers. Turning around he watched as Brawnz approached one of the lockers, whose door was slightly ajar and opened it. There was a terse silence as the five boys stared at the girl who was burying herself further into the locker, and whose blush was beginning to match her hair. There was a terse silence as Brawnz closed the locker door, and the other boys began to put on their clothes.

"We should go," Brawnz said flatly.

"Yeeeaaah," the Courier slurred before leaving the locker room which had begun to be filled with the sounds of whispered "no's", followed by the others who were expressing varying degrees of unease.

Except for Roy, who had to be dragged out by his shoulder by Brawnz.

* * *

 **Caleb: ERROR CODE: 4011 0m North**

 **Cu Rain: 113/ 100% 0.42 34.56 South-West**

 **Kumiho Myeong: 147/ 92% 1.83m 50.43 North-East**

 **Lili Lauren: 87/ 100% 1.92m 45.01 North-East**

The Courier squinted at the screen of his scroll, an old, heavily-used model from what his teammates described as a well-known electronics manufacturing corporation known as Aikon. It's fixed-place touchscreen-unlike the holographic models most of his peers tended to use-had splotches of concentrated scratches that slightly fogged up parts of the screen, and a couple of scrap patches had been bolted to the back of the device as if it were some worn pair of Ranger's jeans. It used to take at least a minute to boot up, and the interface still left many things to be desired.

But let it never be said the Courier didn't love a fixer-upper.

He fell for it's almost immediately, partly for the fact it dented the floor when it accidentally fell from the headmaster's table, but mostly because he saw character in its worn nature. Then the Headmaster told him its previous owner, a huntress by the name of Scarlett Rayne, used it for twelve years and that a good portion of the wear and tear on its screen originated from bullets that hit it while it briefly sat in a beowolf's stomach. He spent much of his free time tuning up the aged scroll, as well as upgrading its somewhat dated hardware with more recent, formerly broken parts he obtained from the electronics professor. When he found the motherboard barely functioning with most of its parts rusted, broken, or on the verge of both, he whistled in admiration for the fact the device worked at all. The Random Access Memory took little time to replace, though the modifications made to the board to allow it to utilize newer and larger chips took at least two hours of nonstop soldering to fully integrate. The processor took both the Courier and the electronics professor by surprise at its lack of age compared to the some other parts of the scroll, with a date marking it having been produced only three years before the products opening. The two figure Scarlett upgraded most of the parts, including the motherboard itself, over its time in her hand.

Still, the aged motherboard itself took the longest time as it took him a few hours to understand how the tiny chips called "Integrated Circuits" worked, as well as an hour to get over the fact the tech itself had so many tiny transistors, when he only had such experience finding such component's larger parents in only the most recent and prototyped Pre-War Government-or Enclave- tech he could find. At least until he met the Think Tank. Of course, he adapted, as any living wastelander would, to the situation, though in an... odder... manner than most.

The electronics professor wrongly informed Doctor Calendula that the young man expressed a perverse desire to copulate with a circuit board.

 _There is nothing wrong with admiring technology_ the Courier insisted to himself, as he sat on the bench outside of the Campus's small train station. A somewhat small number of students waited around for their ride to the city, the BBQ lunch group just a small part of them. _I rarely got to see transistor based tech before Big Mountain. Most of that tech was Enclave, and only the NCR Higher Ups and OSI scientists get to examine with such rare tech. So what if I get a little excited over the concept of miniaturized,_ _ **functional**_ _circuits and transistors? I'm allowed to have hobbies!_

After clearing up the misunderstanding, and befriending his accuser, the two met regularly throughout the week to fix up the old device. By the weekend the two finished the job and watched as the device began to work at a speed only slightly behind that of the more modern hardware. As the user interface became usable, the Courier began experimenting and playing around with the device, unlocking and attempting to understand the various functions of the device. It didn't take him long to connect it with his teammate's more modern-with the exception of Cu's-models, and he currently found himself attempting to get more information about his teammates through his device. He only managed to receive information on their names some biological information and data relevant to battle such as aura levels and location. He didn't count the pictures appearing next to the graphical bar over each of their names, as those had been inputted manually rather than automatically like the other data.

Oddly though, the device seemed to only show his aura levels sporadically, and never for long. He'd get a brief glimpse into what should be a welcome defense measure in his life, but with error codes filling the place of the percentage left of his maximum level. Apparently not even the device designed to measure it could tell how much or little he could manifest if he finally reached his limit. At least according to Doctor Calendula, whom he visited throughout the week, he made progress in terms of his… issues, according to the two point increase in his aura level she said occurred when he visited after dinner. Looking at the high numbers which represented the aura levels of his teammates made him feel rather overwhelmed, when his aura level only showed a red number nine when the device deigned to show him how he actually stacked up.

He swiped the information on his team aside to play around with the other functions of the device, bringing up the main menu of the device's graphical user interface. Having spent the greater part of his life using either mechanical interfaces or text based ones, he still found himself perplexed on the inner mechanics of the icon based interface. The closest he ever came to it in the wasteland would be the Pip-Boy he wore on his wrist, and it's somewhat easy to understand menus. Navigating the newer system took him a bit longer as he tended to look for switches on the side whenever he took a break from learning it.

The distinct click-clacking of the train filled the air with noise, alerting the various students to the approaching train. Looking up, the Courier watched as the various students started chattering about excitedly, including his own team. Some of the girls were dragging other guys or girls by their hands to the yellow line which designated the edge to which the people could wait for the train, trying to get ahead of the crowd attempting to ride the train to Vacuo. Standing up, the Courier stretched, raising his right arm into the air and grabbing it with this left hand. Grunting, and cracking his neck, he stalked towards the line where the others waited, taking in the various sweaty vapors that mixed in with the dirty, rocky scent of the desert air. It took a good five minutes for all of the passengers to disembark and for the waiting students to get on, the Courier boarding in last so he could take up a seat without feeling guilty. Plopping down next to Lili, he leaned back, looking at the ceiling of the train as the doors closed and the train rumbled into motion.

Closing his eyes, the Courier rested as the train sped along the tracks towards the large desert city, letting the gentle swaying of the train as it moved lull him into relaxing. He had to be nudged into alertness, once the train reached the city, due to having bursts of sleep throughout the trip. Dragging himself out of the somewhat comfy seat he yawned as he followed his group out of the train.

The windy, open-air train station seemed far more crowded than when he first arrived into Vacuo, especially with how the sweaty stench that had permeated the air seemed much stronger. He followed the group, navigating the crowd with a practiced ease, spouting off a quick apology to whoever he accidently rubbed against when he couldn't pass otherwise. It took what felt like an eternity to the quiet wastelander to make it through the sea of people attempting to take trains to who knows where, feeling like exiting an abandoned vault after hours of exploring its nooks and crannies back out to the fresher, less cramped wasteland when they all finally stepped out onto the sidewalk next to the road. The harsh desert sun beat down on the group as a whole, and the Courier felt the heat against the little skin he showed underneath the duster Ulysses had given to him. Opening his eyes after the brief second of blindness, the young wastelander found himself staring at a wide grey-asphalt road, filled to the brim with...cars… innumerable cars.

Suddenly the young wastelander wished he never left the Academy.

The Courier gulped silently under the myriad honks, hoping that a crash wouldn't happen and thus sending the entire street into a long series of chained explosions. Towns banned them from their premises for a good reason after all, no one desires for their streets to be flooded with fire and fast-flying scrap metal. Stepping carefully towards his group all the while keeping an eye on the road, just in case some idiot didn't know how to control their steel deathtrap properly, he listened into the conversation.

"-New Rackgon the Barbarian Comic Book today," Kumiho said, catching the Courier's attention, and distracting him from the horrible screeching explosions-waiting-to-happen. "I'll be busy with that, not to mention Lili said she wanted to try that All-Day Atlesian breakfast thing they're doing at Waffle Warehouse."

"Huh," Roy Stated, placing a hand on his white slacks. "Didn't peg you as a breakfast person, Lil."

Lili nodded her head somewhat excitedly, a rare overjoyed open mouth smile plastered on her face expressing her joy at the prospect of her favorite meal. The Courier found it odd as she never got this excited before, and he felt once again an old and odd feeling of happiness, he only felt once before during travels with ED-E after Hoover Dam. When he noticed Nolan turning away and clutching his chest while sporting a grin, he figured he wasn't alone in the feeling.

"W-well, enjoy your breakfast lunch thing," Roy said while turning his head sideways, his eyes wide in shock, and his right hand clutching his heart. "I'd say it's time to go, right guys? There's a bus stop nearby."

 _Oh no,_ the Courier thought to himself while clenching his eyes shut. _Please no._

To his dawning horror, Finagle decided to take a nice, long one right all over the Courier's life, as he usually does, as one of the devil's death traps called "the bus" decided to drive up right next to a small, plastic walled shelter just about a half dozen meters from the group. The rest of the group, sans Kumiho and Lili, reacted quickly and began walking, or limping in the case of Cu Rain, quickly towards the stop, leaving the somewhat shaken wastelander behind. Steeling himself for what might possibly be a fiery, explosive, painful demise he stepped forward towards the metal death trap, his nervous swallow hidden by his beloved and ever-present silk cowboy scarf.

The first thing he noticed about the bus was the cool breeze due to the differences in temperature between the hot summer day, and the cool, air conditioned inside of the bus. Stepping up the short steps at the front, he noticed his friends placing several coins of theirs or bills into a box marked "Bus Fare", or in the case of Nolan, flashing some card that none of the others seemed to have. After looking at the price marked up above the box, the Courier pulled out one of the bills Headmaster Lyons gave him after the young wastelander had forced him to accept a tiny chunk of the broken gold bar the Courier carried. He rationalized it by telling him he'd rather trade with him than some bank he didn't know.

It had the number five in the upper right, and bottom left corners, and the face of some old man on the front. Handing it over the bus driver, a middle aged man in a darkly tanned uniform, looked for a second before pushing it back towards the Courier. He opened his mouth to speak, before the young wastelander interrupted him.

"Sorry, don't have any smaller bills. Just," the Courier said, blinking in thought, "I guess just, use it to pay for someone else's fare or something. Just… please don't crash the bus."

The driver smiled and chuckled, as if the Courier's worried plea was some halfhearted attempt to be sarcastic. The driver seemed to take it well, judging by his long bout of chuckling before pointing towards the seats. The Courier started making his way before noticing Cu Rain happily- as judged by his wide smile, jumpy leg, and open eyes-sitting on the on one of the front row seats. The rest of the group had found seats near the back, and the young wastelander briefly wondered why his partner sat all the way up at the front, before coming to the obvious realization.

"Clever, Cu," the Courier said as he took the seat next to his partner. His partner simply gave him a confused look, to which the young wastelander simply studied for a second before hitting his forehead with his fingers and making an "Oh" sound. "Sitting in the front seat… You can get out quicker during an emergency." As the Bus started moving, the Courier grabbed onto the bar in front of the seat, trying his best not to hyperventilate. His partner chuckled a bit at the Courier's statement, as well as his grabbing of the bars.

"Aw, nah bud," Cu began, before calming his laugh down, so that he only sported a massive grin. "I'm just happy I can sit at the front of the bus for once!" The Courier heard a couple eavesdroppers audibly gag at Cu's rather enthusiastic statement, including the driver.

"Don't sit at the front too much? Are busses that cramped usually?" The Courier asked.

"Nah," Cu Said good naturedly, with a wide smile on his face. "Let's just say I used to live in a nasty place, leave it at that. I'm really glad to be here in Vacuo."

 _Great,_ _that's just perfect. One of the admirable bits of history never happened here. And no Nuclear Apocalypse to make people have more pressing matters either,_ the Courier thought with a single, dry chuckle.

"Sorry you had to go through that," he said.

"Eh," Cu shrugged out, "Not your fault. 'Sides, you've been nothing but a damn good friend. Ya' couldn't do anything bette… well… actually…"

"What?" the Courier asked, wondering what his partner needed from him.

"Once I get this cast off," Cu said while flashing a somewhat bloodthirsty grin at his partner, "I wanna fight ya'. See those grimm killin' skills for myself."

"Sure," the Courier said, putting his hand out towards his partner, who grabbed it and grinned that signature toothy grin of his.

After the conversation finished, they both sat back against the seat, the young wastelander closing his eyes in an attempt to get his mind off of the fact that despite the driver's skill, the bus might just well explode. Unable to focus on the darkness appearing in front of him, the Courier sighed and began to look around for something to distract him from the fact he sat in a large, highly explosive deathtrap. Then he heard the "harrumph" that only came from the oldest members of society, and only when they found something frustrating. Looking to the seat one row behind him and across the aisle, and pointedly ignoring the attempts of the slightly older women in the seat across from him to grab his "attention", he found himself staring at some slightly balding old man angrily setting down a newspaper. Looking at newspaper for a second the Courier spoke up.

"Excuse me sir?"

The old man turned around, and looked at the Courier, allowing for the young wastelander to see two rising triangular strips of scales rising from his neck to his ears, as if he grew scales instead of hair where his sideburns would be. The Old man stared at him with reptilian eyes for a moment, before taking on a shocked expression.

"Would you mind if I borrowed that paper for a bit? Sorry," the Courier finished, continuing to look in the faunus's yellow eyes. The old faunus adopted a happy, slightly toothy smile, and chuckled warmly, as if he had been speaking with an old friend he hadn't seen in years. His reptilian eyes widened in happiness, and looked as if they came from a man sixty years younger.

"Of course!" The faunus shouted jovially in a gravelly, baritone voice, before chuckling. "Don't even need to ask Thom! What's mine is yours, buddy!"

"Thom? I … I think you've gotten the wrong person," the Courier said, memories of his first Lily coming back with every word from the elderly reptilian faunus. He stared back at the Courier for a second and blinked a few times. The smile fell slightly from his face at the revelation, and, even though they remained in that state of youthfulness, his eyes became regretful and filled with sorrow.

"Sorry… Never mind," The Courier said, looking back before he felt the newspaper through the bandages around his right arm. Looking back the old faunus was giving him a tired smile while holding out the newspaper.

"It's fine son," he said, before sighing. "Paper's just nothing but bad news anyways. Always something wrong in society. As if everyone didn't know already."

"Hmm," the Courier hummed as he nodded his head, gently grabbing the paper from the old faunus's hand. He nodded his head once again in thanks before turning towards the driver's seat in front of his and Cu's seat. He heard the old faunus sigh and adjust in his seat, and waited a moment before looking over the newspaper.

 _Vale: Torchwick's Dust Robberies Threatening Long Term Economic Stability- Pale Abbott._

 _Vale Council Reaffirm Claims: Torchwick's Spree Will Not Affect Vytal Festival Functions-Rose Elysium_

 _Grimm Activity on the Rise-Effects of White Fang Terrorism- Dillon Greene_

 _Racial Tensions Highest Since Faunus Rights Revolution, Says Doctor Dufresne, Mistralian National University of Science and Medicine- Dillon Greene_

 _Faunus of Vacuo: Police Not Doing Enough About Kidnappings- Zander Swart_

The Courier blinked a few times as he stared at the last headline, noting the stark contrast with the other issues. Everywhere he looked on the paper, there were reports of the various problems that affected the four kingdoms of Remnant, most of which reminded the young wastelander of the varied issues the NCR faced on the home front. People in cities and other stable environments faced more complex and less personally life threatening issues than those living in the wastes itself. However, while wastelanders and the military forces of the NCR faced off against raiders, thieves, and the wretches known as slavers, including the much vilified Caesar's Legion, all of whose threats were physical and observable, the home front dealt with the subtle, the insidious, the slow-burning issues which could destroy the nation if left alone. How could a nation fight off those threatening it if it could not afford the guns to arm its defenders?

The Courier learned early in his life, shortly after the end of his early childhood, that different issues always called for different solutions, and that it took anyone and everyone working together as one people, but on different issues at different times and places to keep society running as properly as possible. Some people solved economic issues at the same rate a Ranger solved an issue involving a slaver band, and some people solved political issues at an even faster rate, with unequaled diplomatic expertise. The young wastelander discovered quickly after beginning his career as a package courier that he belonged to a rare group of people called to fix issues which normally took a multitude of various people to solve, something which the NCR thanked the heavens for. While he normally found himself dealing with the issues faced by people living on the frontier, rarely ever getting involved in the political machinations of faceless old men in suits arguing over how to fix the economy, after tracking Benny down he found himself dealing with more subtle and nuanced issues which took more than firing a gun to fix. Though those dealt more with conflict de-escalation and diplomacy, rather than economic revival or eliminating racial tension.

Which is why he stared at the keyword of the last headline: "Kidnappings". Theft harmed people financially, and in many cases in the wastes, physically, but loss of property was much less horrible than a kidnapping. A robber pointing a gun at someone to steal their dust will leave after being handed the dust, a kidnapper hurts people regardless of whether or not their victim gives them something. The Courier scanned the article, looking for any outstanding details, as his interest in the situation overcame his nervousness of riding the deathtrap. Reaching the end of the front page portion of the article quickly, he flipped the pages until he came to the main meat of the article.

 _Okay, let's see ..blah, blah, It's been occurring… all over the city? And for… the past two months? No mention of ransoms, meaning money might not be the prime motivation… That doesn't bode well. Alright… the Vacuoan police commissioner claims the force is working round the clock, good. Criminal Psychologist says missing faunus might have run off to join the White Fang._ The Courier paused in his train of thought and looked up away from the paper, taking on a thoughtful expression. _White Fang? The Jack London book?… No. Wait. Professor Laurel talked about them. Weren't they? Yeah… the long standing civil rights group, used to be respectable, used to mean something, but went terrorist around three- three and a half years ago. They became faunus supremacists, like the NMA out west, just... with a hatred for humans instead of ghouls and super mutants. That implies most if not all of the missing people are faunus. Oh right… the title… Hmm... no human victims mentioned… Some middle class though, out partying late at night. Victims aren't just poor, though poor are likely the primary victims. Hmm… might be a combination, some faunus running off to join White Fang and the rest being kidnapped. Probably the most likely scenario, actually. But-_

The Courier's thoughts came to a halt when he heard footsteps approaching from behind his seat. Looking to the right, he found himself staring at the approaching Brawnz, who stared at him with a serious expression as he moved to leave the bus. After pointing towards the Courier's left, he exited the bus as the young wastelander turned around. Cu's head leaned against the window, and snored came out of his mouth alongside a small trail of drool leaking from his mouth. Nudging him in the shoulder, the Courier woke up his partner.

"No! I'm not a flail!" he shouted as he bolted straight upright, breathing heavily. He continued breathing for a second before realizing exactly where he sat. Looking towards the Courier, he gave a pleading look that said "Please don't mention what just happened." Nodding in understanding the young wastelander stood up and gestured towards the door. Stopping in the middle of the aisle, the Courier placed the newspaper on the seat next to the old reptile faunus, whose snores overtook several conversations near the back of the bus. It took little time for the two to join their friends in front of the bus, what with the Courier fighting off his temptation to kiss the sidewalk, and Cu simply desiring to keep up with the others. The bus took off soon after a few seconds, to the young courier's relief, and the four boys began to follow Nolan towards the destination.

Finally used to the long deathtrap strips that ran through the cities, the Courier found himself staring at the various concrete buildings in awe, feeling that Frost told him nothing but the truth back on the airship. Like Vale's concrete jungle, the buildings rose high up into the sky, as if attempting to succeed where Icarus failed. Unlike the buildings of Vale, whose unusual architecture reminded the wastelander of some of the cities he had seen in the various fantasy stories he had read during his long travels, the buildings in Vacuo appeared to be similar to the old dilapidated buildings he had seen during his years in the Boneyard. However, like any city, the architecture seemed mixed in places, and the borders between the old and new stood out clearly due to the differences in building material. In the distance, oddly shaped skyscrapers, with sides angled towards the tip, creating a triangular rather than a blocky shape, towered over the city which surrounded them.

The Courier continued staring as he walked, only glancing down whenever he inevitably bumped into someone on the crowded sidewalk. He only stopped completely when the four arrived at the actual restaurant. The restaurant, like the surrounding buildings, was composed of brickwork, with windows facing out towards the road. Above the restaurant's doors sat a large sign which read "Porky's Barbecue", a picture of an almost naked pig in a blue suit and red tie giving a show tunes gesture next to the name. The boys walked through the doors, meeting a smoky sweet smell as they entered.

The Courier held in his vomit, placing a hand to his mouth and grimacing. He recognized one of the various odors which flowed throughout the wood walled restaurant, an unwelcome and unwholesome, in his own opinion, odor which he knew would give him a wholly unique and disgusting nightmare when he slept again. While normally the wastelander welcomed any changes to the usual horrors he observed in his sleep, even if he traded them for something many might consider equivalent in wretchedness, he considered the coming nightmare that his mind already began to play the sole exception. The scent of smoked pork drowned all of the other, more pleasant, scents in the restaurant, and the young wastelander sighed.

 _What happened before isn't happening again_ he kept telling himself that repeatedly as his friends found, and dragged him to, a table, and his stupor only broke when Cu tapped his shoulder to let him know the waiter needed to take his drink order. Like any sane wastelander, the Courier ordered water, and subsequently temporarily lost said sanity when Nolan revealed the water costed nothing. He blinked a few times after the revelation, and stared straight ahead. Several minutes passed before the young wastelander returned to reality due to the waiter asking for his order. He looked briefly at the menu and chose the first thing that didn't involve the rotten pig-flesh he smelled all around him, "Beef Brisket".

In an attempt to ignore the overwhelming nightmarish odor, the Courier began to recollect the information he learned from the article. The wastelander long ago adopted the practice of repeating known details about any problem he found himself dealing with ad nauseam in order to either properly understand the full extent of the issue, or to figure out details that he missed when first examining the details. As nothing else normally occurred on his long walks through the wasteland aside from the occasional fights and legion assassin squads, he often found himself making odd decisions that, despite seeing results, others might call the signs of a madman.

The oddest, of course, being his utilization of No-Bark Noonan's … unique observations of the world to understand the culprits behind the issues which _used to_ plague the town of Novac. Of course, he didn't willingly seek out No-Bark for his advice until his unwarranted theory about the invisible, two-headed chupacabra armed with an automatic blunderbuss turned out to be half true. It didn't take a genius to figure out the insane man observed more accurately than the rest of the town, and the Courier's subsequent conversation helped bring "wasteland justice" to e\the _wretch_ who sold Carla Boone to the Legion.

After the successes resulting from listening to the advice of a half-crazy, radscorpion sting-addled homeless man, the Courier promised himself to always take seriously the observations and accounts of the homeless, the insane, and those who found themselves in both categories. On two separate occasions, such observations saved entire towns from being decimated by the legion. Because of his positive experiences dealing with such individuals, he placed consulting a member of the city's likely vast homeless population at the top of his mental priority list.

"-Which is why the X-Ray and Vav movie is going to bomb harder than propane tank of fire-dust" Nolan finished, causing the Courier to turn his attention away from his own thoughts.

"I'm still gonna see it," Roy stated, an annoyed look on his face. "At least if it's bad I can laugh at it."

"But, you'd still be paying twenty lien to see a bad film," Cu chimed in, "Would ya really waste twenty lien just to sit through two hours of garbage?"

"Yes!" Roy exclaimed. "Because a bad movie can be even more entertaining than a good one!"

"Look," Brawnz said with a sigh, closing his eyes and pitting his hand on his head, 'If Roy wants to waste his money on pointless crap-"

"Hey!"

"That's his business," Brawnz finished. "If he's old enough to realize that changing his underwear every day is good for him, he's old enough to make financial decisions."

"Brawnz," Nolan chimed in, "You know as well as I do Roy's worn the same pair of pants for four days. What makes you think-"

"Hey! Not in front of the others, you dick!" Roy interrupted. The Courier blinked a few times, and wondered why anyone might find good hygiene embarrassing. Sitting back in his chair he began to ignore the incessant bickering which occurred almost without fail whenever Nolan and Roy occupied the same space for more than half a minute. He leaned quickly that mediating and ending the argument only paved the way for a completely different, unrelated argument. While one might end their argument on whether or not some brand of chocolate hazelnut spread is better than peanut butter-which Cu inadvertently lengthened by two days when he joined in, despite being warned multiple times not to encourage them-but they'd quickly, and almost violently, switch to another completely insipid argument, such as which flavor of Schnee Family Fruit Soda tasted the best.

Their argument over which component of the female anatomy reigned supreme nearly caused a civil war amongst the heterosexual male population- as well as some of the more perverted members of the bisexual and homosexual female population-of the school. Sadly, not even Brawnz, the only bastion of sanity on team BRNZ-Lili had caught May using her scope to peek on boys changing in their rooms on three separate occasions-remained neutral, and joined Roy's side.

It was truly the darkest Thursday the Courier had ever witnessed. He truly worried whether or not the school would last a month, let alone a semester, if it could barely survive the first week.

The argument only ceased when the food finally managed to arrive. After a quick trip to the washroom, the Courier picked up the pink bordered meat, sandwiched between two garlic-scented, butter-soaked pieces of toasted bread. Ignoring the strips of fires on the side, the Courier took a large bite of the sandwich.

Cu had been completely and utterly wrong about barbecue.

It was all the glory of the heavens themselves condensed into sandwich form, as if the gods of all religions blessed the sandwich. The Courier barely managed to hold back a moan of pleasure as the meat melted in his mouth. It came apart into strips as he continued to chew, creating a euphoric pleasure to top off the mountain of smoky flavor that assaulted his tongue as a Ranger would a Recruit Legionary. He continued until he swallowed reflexively, nearly shedding a tear as it left only a slightly sweet aftertaste. Placing the sandwich on the plat the young wastelander slouched over the table, covering his eyes with his bandaged right hand, as he began to choke up.

It took him a minute before he continued to eat, and all of his willpower went into not devouring the delicious sandwich whole. He savored every bite, as if he were chewing the last bit of edible food in remnant. A quarter hour passed before he ate the last bite of the sandwich, the fries having gone to stall his appetite from finishing the main entree too quickly. Sitting back, he relaxed completely for the first time in weeks, the food giving him a sense of near comatose levels of tiredness that nonetheless felt euphoric. Looking towards the others, he found they appeared the same, stuck in a state of enjoyable laziness, with yawning mouths and tired looking eyes.

"Was it good?" Cu asked lazily, barely rising from his food induced stupor.

"The best I've ever had," the Courier replied. The five students remained stuck in their stupor until their bills had been placed. It didn't take long for the boys to find their wallets, and after receiving their receipts they left the table, leaving a generous pile of lien in the middle of the table as they began to leave.

The sun blinded the boys as they left, and they shielded their eyes as they walked out onto the sidewalk. The sun barely changed position since they entered, indicating the long day that awaited them. Brawnz turned around to face the group, sighing in pleasure before speaking.

"Ah~! The day's still young," he said, "Why don't we go meet with the girls at the comic shop. See if anything interesting pops out."

"I'm game," Roy said, nodding his head.

"Actually," The Courier chimed in, grabbing the others' attention. "I have a something I need to do before anything else." The other boys simply looked at him for a moment in confusion.

"Oh?" Cu spoke up, "Need any help?"

"Nah," the Courier said, before adopting an apologetic grimace. "It's something I need to do alone… sorry."

"Oh," Cu said, with a twinge of sadness in his voice, as he nodded in understanding. "Alright, I guess we can hang out later or something."

"Fine by me," the Courier replied, "I'll see you guys later… Just… it might be tomorrow when I get back.

"Tomorrow?" Brawnz questioned.

"Its fine," the Courier reassured, "I'll be alright. I promise." His friends simply stared at him for a half minute before shrugging and sighing.

"If you say so," Brawnz reluctantly stated. "See you later man."

Heading in opposite directions the group split, with the Courier heading out towards the edge of the city, while the rest of the boys began walking towards the comic shop Kumiho mentioned. As the Courier continued towards the edge of the city, the smells of the city began to dilute as the number of cars began to decrease, to the young wastelander's satisfaction. Instead the air began to take on the quality of that of Freeside, giving hint to a seedy lack of polish that defined most of the towns the young courier passed through.

Smiling, he began his search.

* * *

"Eaaauh," moaned the thin clothed vagrant, a multitude of thicker clothes at his side for when the cold desert nights began. "Sorry, I haven't seen nothing like what you're talkin' 'bout mister. Maybe the others might've'. Try askin' them."

The Courier sighed, before handing a five lien bill to the old looking man. The man thanked the youth heartily as he began walking further into the somewhat cleaned alleyway that the man and his fellow vagabonds called their home. The alleyway split two long-abandoned three story shops, one which apparently sold flowers when it still operated, judging by the faded mural alongside the front of the brickwork building. The shops no longer stood as icons of small business, long since turned into impromptu shelters for those who owned none. The alley stunk with the smell of the various refuse collected and scavenged by the occupants, in the hopes that something might be used to generate some small form of income.

It reminded him of some of the less seedy parts of Freeside.

When the Courier first entered their home, he had to assure them he meant no harm to them, as most people kept to their own devices rather than start up conversations. When he began asking them questions about the kidnappings he noticed a dichotomy form in their previously coldly neutral attitudes towards him, as if they couldn't tell if he desired to stop the kidnappings, or participated in them. Despite having half of them mistrust him, he managed to eke out small pieces of information, none of which pointed him explicitly towards the kidnappers themselves. The sky had just barely begun to turn amber, letting him know just how long he had been listening to the stories of the various members of the populated alleyway.

"Excuse me sir, I was just wonderi-"

"Kit," the bearded young man replied. He continued staring away from the Courier, not moving even a single muscle.

"Beg Pardon?"

"Kit. She should be around here somewhere," he said, looking directly into the Couriers eyes, as if gauging him. "She was out last night near the intersection between the highway and the boulevard you see running out there," he continued gesturing towards the road which ran in front of the entrance to the alley. "Someone tried grabbing her, but her friend Leo managed to keep her safe."

"Where can I find her?" the Courier asked, reaching into his pocket for a few spare bills.

"I dunno," the bearded man replied, staring in front of himself again. "Won't be hard to recognize her though. She's the only kid around here, you can't miss something like that."

The Courier nodded his head and thanks and handed over a bundle of crumpled bills worth twenty lien, which the man hesitated before accepting. He began to search around the connected alleys, only turning around when coming across some barrier preventing his travel. He wandered around the area until evening fully set in, the sky having lost its blue hue just shortly after learning about Kit.

Turning the corner once again, he began to think he had been swindled when he noticed a bundle of clothes and blankets slightly smaller than the rest of the myriad vagrants calling the connected alley's home. At the top was a head to tiny for an adult, two fox ears sprouting just above where human ears hung. The young girl appeared no older than eight, and had a somewhat dirty and ruddy face, crumbs from her last meal still sticking just below her lower lip.

" _Hey there."_

 _The little girl, her tanned rags covered in grime and mud, looked up at the figure squatting in front of her. She didn't flinch despite the blood that stained his desert colored armor, and didn't flinch when looking at his face. A large and nasty gash, likely from a machete, ran from above his left eye down to below his lip and was just starting to staunch, yet the left side of the man's face remained covered in his own blood. His right hand was outstretched towards her, stained in the blood of another man. She looked as if she briefly understood that he had been the source of the loud explosions and gunshots that had filled the air for the past quarter hour, but all she did was simply stare at his hand for a second before mumbling out her response._

" _I'm not allowed to talk," she whispered, hunching up further in the large storm drain, staining the rags that covered her further in the dark slime from the drain._

" _They can't hurt you anymore," the bleeding man responded. "...Neither will their friends. I promise."_

 _The two remained there for almost a minute before the man quickly reached for something behind him. It took him a minute or so of going through his beige bag before he grunted at his success. Holding the item out for the girl to see, she gasped._

" _Sergeant Teddy!"_

" _Siri told me he belongs to you," the man said with what appeared to be a sincere smile as he looked at the teddy bear. "I figured you'd wanna take him with you."_

" _With me?" She asked as she crawled towards the man's out stretched arm. Grabbing the teddy bear she hugged it close to her chest before looking back up at the man._

" _Yeah," the man said as he reached his hand out. She hesitated a moment before grabbing his hand, as if worried he was just bringing her back out for the others in the camp. She didn't start squirming when and in fact relaxed when realized he wouldn't drag her hard by her arm. "I'm taking you somewhere safe."_

The Courier shook his head, stopping one of the few half-decent memories he had of the Fort. The girl reminded him of the young slave girl, though he felt the young fox faunus had experienced only a slightly better life than a female, prepubescent legion slave. Walking towards the small girl he coughed into his hand, grabbing her attention. The blankets she had been sitting under moved about in ways impossible for a single child, before a large German Shepherd crawled out from under one of the Edges. The large dog stared at the young wastelander, its mouth covered in stains from what must have been some wet dog food. Neither love nor hate appeared in the dog's eyes, only the simple wariness of a wary caretaker.

"You must be Kit. Nice to meet you!" The Courier said with a smile as he took a seat across from the young girl, who continued to stare at him cautiously even after he finished sitting down. "I heard some nasty man tried to hurt you the other night. Could you tell me what happened?"

The girl simply shrunk back into the wall, as if she feared the Courier might hurt her in some way. The dog looked briefly at his friend before giving what constituted as a cold stare at the man who scarred his little girl. The Courier fished around in his pockets, and pulled out his wallet, opening it to show the girl his student I.D.

"Look," he said, pointing towards the card. "I'm a huntsman, you can trust me." He watched as her face lit up, as if she had just met some comic book superhero. He figured her childish exuberance hadn't been whittled down by the harsh nature of the streets just yet. He placed his wallet back in his pockets and watched as he freed herself of the blankets in an attempt to sit more properly.

"Now," The Courier began. "I'm going to ask you a few questions."

* * *

 **AN: Well, this is the beginning of a brand new plot arc, taking place during the timeframe of RWBY Volume One, and perhaps parts of Volume two. I'm very pleased to see the story finally reach the parts I have been hoping to reach for the past month. While there is little violence in this chapter, I can promise the next chapter is going to feature some manner of combat.**

 **I will forever remember this chapter as: "The chapter where I forever tainted the image of team BRNZ".**

 **As always, thank you for reading my works.**

 **Sorry, no Omake this chapter.**


	8. A Particular Set of Skills

**AN: So, the new plot arc really begins here. I really, REALLY hope that this doesn't come off as "edgy" in any way.**

 **Well... Hope you enjoy the chapter.**

* * *

 _-December 21, 2278_

 _Despite all of the good, the benevolence, and kindness which man can show to his fellows, there are still the evils which mark of humanity like a pox. Some have a tendency to only see those evils, ignoring kindness and virtue altogether, and yet they still are preferable to those who would ignore all evils. Evils cannot be rectified if they cannot be recognized, after all._

 _Of the evils which man commits upon itself, like an insane beast clawing at itself desperately for some unknown purpose, there are those which, despite what some may say, are far greater in their scope than others. However, people who I have passed by in my travels have all expressed differing views on which evil is the most horrid. Though, some of them have expressed agreement with my perspective on the greatest evil:_

 _The one which facilitates all others._

 _"You'd be a lot more concerned if they were human!"_

 _-Trent White-Protester_

 **Chapter 8: A Particular Set of Skills**

The Courier continued to scrape the combat knife along the large whetstone, the scraping noise silent against the sounds of midnight in Vacuo's narrows, the stumbling of drunks and glass breaking filling the air from almost a good kilometer around. The occasional vehicle careened past the alleyway, always vanishing off into the night instead of stopping. His mind focused on the sounds around him, listening for footfalls or the sounds of a stopping car, and he ceased his sharpening every time he perceived a sound that broke the silence created by his adaptation to the city noise.

Turning the knife to the other side of the stone once again he began sharpening the right side of the knife for the tenth time, listening as another pair of footsteps passed right on by the alleyway, leaving as soon as they arrived. Leaning back against the dumpster as he worked on his knife, he sighed to himself, clenching his eyes shut. After a few more minutes of sharpening he examined his blade, placing the whetstone to the side. Grabbing a single strand of hair from his head, he touched the blade to it, barely moving the sharp edge before the hair came off. Sighing in content, he placed the whetstone back in his pocket, and the knife in its holster on his left rib. Listening to the environment around him, he continued to hope that the kidnappers would strike the same place twice.

 _"I-I'm sorry, b-but I-I didn't really get a good look at any their faces," the little faunus girl stuttered out, nervously shrinking beneath the Courier's concerned gaze, his efforts in getting her at ease with the huntsman's I.D. having gone down the drain. The Courier lowered his eyebrows in a sad expression._

 _"It's fine. Can you tell me where this happened or possibly anything about the event itself?" he asked in a compassionate tone._

 _"U-um... well" she began, looking at the German shepherd whose intelligent eyes watched the young wastelander with a careful and slightly suspicious gaze. He knew that gaze all too well, having expressed it multiple times towards those whose attitudes might cause his robot child, ED-E, harm. The eyes spoke threats towards others that might threaten those they watched over. "Please pr-promise me you won't... won't take Leo away!"_

 _"I'm assuming Leo is your friend here," he spoke up, nodding towards the dog. She paused a moment before nervously nodding her head, looking downwards. He nodded once before speaking again. "I'm not the kind of person that separates friends from each other. You have my word, Miss Kit, I won't separate you two."_

 _She giggled after he called her miss, and Leo snorted in apparent amusement. A gentle smile crept up on his face as he stared at the two across the dimming alleyway. Humphing once, the Courier nodded for her to continue telling him of her experience the night before. She took a minute to begin speaking again, looking down at the ground, still unsure of what to say._

 _"I was... trying to find things to sell to that place down the street... the... re-something place. They pay me for any metal or glass I can find." she said. The Courier nodded as he glanced briefly at her hands, which were covered in bandages and old scratches. "Leo needs to eat to stay big! That way he can protect me!" She said raising her arms to the sky. The dog raised his head proudly in response to her statement. "It was really dark, but that's okay! I have night vision," she said in what a child might assume to be a spy's whisper, as if it were some super-secret._

 _"That's impressive," the Courier said, playing along, hiding his grin by turning his head. Cu explained that bit about faunus shortly after the young wastelander freaked out one night when he noticed glowing eyes staring at him in the dark. Cu noticed the Courier waking up suddenly and had watched him in concern, something which reminded the wastelander of being surrounded by night stalkers. He knew all too well the abilities of faunus, and expressed jealousy on at least half a dozen occasions. Of course, he'd never tell the girl anything about his prior knowledge, taking away the joy of a child confusing something relatively normal for something incredible. That, and he still found the night vision ability extremely interesting and useful. "I'm jealous! Night vision would help me out a lot!"_

 _"Mhmm!" She said proudly holding up her head, before realizing she needed to continue. "Well... ah... It was really, really dark. So I... uh... was rooting through the trash a couple of blocks away... I think it was the dumpster behind the-the uh-the burger place! I remember the smell of rotting meat and moldy bread! Well-Well... I heard a car pull up near the end of the alleyway, and a couple of big guys came out. One of them approached me and acted a lot like you mister huntsman. He was acting real nice to me, offered me a place to stay, somewhere nice and warm." She stopped before looking down again. "But... he wouldn't let Leo come, even though I asked. I told him I wouldn't leave him behind and... well… he didn't stay so nice. When I tried walking past he grabbed me from behind and dragged me to the car! He kicked Leo in the side!"_

 _"That's pretty mean," the Courier said nodding. His mind however filled with profanities and horrid thoughts on the most likely candidates who would attempt to kidnap a homeless child. He hoped that reality differed from his expectations, and desired nothing more than being wrong._

 _"Yeah, but Leo, he..." she began, staring at her dog with thankful, but worried eyes. "Leo... Leo attacked the man who grabbed me... he... jumped an' bit his throat!"_

 _"Huh... good dog," the Courier said, nodding appreciatively at the dog. While many dogs attacked the wastelander in his travels, he still held a soft spot for those who walked alongside people rather than attack them on sight. However, a companion whom placed their life on the line for others, regardless of species, deserved nothing less than complete respect. Leo traded glances with him, and relaxed, the two coming to a mutual understanding of each other._

 _"Mhmm," she happily mumbled, "Leo's always taken good care of me. I just hope I can give him as much as he's given me." She smiled for a brief second before frowning again, her dirty orange hair once again falling in front of her face. "There was a flash of light as he bit in, and the next thing I know Leo's charging at the second man, who pulled out a gun."_

 _"A gun!" The Courier practically shouted, the little girl shrank for a moment before realizing the man held contempt only for her aggressors. "You ran away right? You didn't stay there did you?"_

 _"No, but Leo managed to bite his throat too. I closed my eyes again as a second flash of light happened, but when I opened them the two were sleeping on the ground. We ran off after that, and I think the two took their van and left."_

 _"You did the smart thing, who knows what would have happened if they woke up," the Courier said, before standing up, stretching his limbs to ease them after such a long period of sitting down._

 _"You're leaving?" She asked, a sad tone in her voice._

 _"If I'm going to catch these bas-bad men, I have to find this place before it gets dark." He replied, before looking down at her. Reaching his hand for her head, he gently tousled her hair, her ears twitching every time his hand came near them. He dropped the twenty lien bill he hid between his middle and index fingers into the collar of her ragged shirt right before taking his hand off her head, her gaze following it as it met his side. "I'll come and bring you some food tomorrow, so please don't leave. It's safer here than where you were last night."_

 _"What about Leo? It wouldn't be fair if you just brought food for me!" She insisted, a firm tone in her voice for once. The Courier simply humphed a single chuckle in a good-natured and warm manner before speaking up again._

 _"Don't worry, I will," he said, nodding his head. "I'll bring him steak in fact! How does he like it?"_

 _"Um," she mumbled, seemingly unused to someone outside the small homeless community agreeing with her about feeding her dog. She stared at Leo for a second. "I guess maybe raw I guess... he doesn't like cooked meat." The Courier simply nodded his head once in confirmation before heading off._

Looking once again at his scroll, the time reading just a few minutes past midnight, he humphed, before taking out his Sequoia, thumbing the cylinder release. Taking out the single, non-quick load round he always carried in his front pocket, he filled the fifth chamber, normally kept empty when the revolver sat in its holster, before jolting the cylinder back into place. Placing the revolver on the ground next to him, the Courier leaned his back against the brick wall that stood parallel to an old, pine-green, stench ridden dumpster. Fighting back tiredness, he continued to listen to his environment, the odd distant honking rolling in from better lit districts kilometers away.

His concentration broke when the sounds of steps echoed throughout the alleyway, forcing his body to tense. Silently changing positions, he crouched behind the dumpster, gripping his large revolver tightly, index finger just outside the trigger guard. Thumbing the hammer back, he froze as the footsteps stopped and he heard a soft feminine gasp. Staying tense, he took a deep breath, intending to question her, only to close his open mouth as the sound of a car stopping in front of the alley filled the air.

Taking a peek out from his hiding spot the young wastelander watched as two large silhouettes walked towards the woman who had begun to back towards the Courier. The larger man to the right made a placating gesture towards the woman, who took another step back.

"I think you should just come with us... make it easy on yourself," the smaller man said, his scratchy, high pitched voice contrasting heavily with the underlying demand. The woman, no... The girl stepped further back, her pale face being lit by the pale glow of the distant streetlight. Now lit, the Courier began to study her face, recognizing the soft angles of her face, her orange hair, and her short stature.

 _Kumiho?_ He thought, wide eyed at seeing his teammate in the alley with him. _How the he-_ he barely finished the thought before jerking his head towards his side, where his scroll resided _Oh...crap_ He then looked back at his teammate, and realized she was unarmed. _OH CRAP!_

Shaking his head, he flipped his sequoia around, and held it somewhat up for his teammate to grab, while continuing to hide behind the dumpster. She looked at him for a moment, blinked, and then took on a questioning expression. He jiggled the gun, made a punching motion with his left hand while leaning forward, and tilted his head towards the two men at the end of the alley before finishing with a trigger pulling motion. She blinked a couple of times before taking the revolver with an unsure motion. She pointed the sequoia at the men, making the cocking motion with her thumb, as the Courier unsheathed his knife. He heard the men stop in their tracks, before they both chuckled darkly, giving away their positions in the alleyway. The larger man, as judged by the heavier footsteps, began to approach slowly again.

The Courier jumped out from behind the dumpster as the large man reared the corner to it. Ducking under the man's well aimed haymaker, and cursing how they discovered him through his handing off of his revolver, the young wastelander jabbed the man in the crotch with his right fist. The second the man flinched in agony, the Courier used a Ranger Takedown, tripping him by swooping his legs out from under him with a well-placed leg swipe. The man's head hit the ground, and he grunted, opening his eyes only to be met with the sight of a combat knife jabbing into his neck. The man passed out as a flash of light filled the alley.

Looking up, the Courier dodged towards the smaller man, attempting to reach him before he could finish pulling his gun out, having stepped back in shock at the swift felling of his partner. As panic entered his mind, a glass bottle shattered against the man's head, and the scratchy-voiced man lost the grip he had on his pistol. Charging even faster, the Courier tackled the man, launching him backwards slightly just as he recovered from the impact of the glass bottle. Pushing himself up, he straddled the smaller man, before quickly jabbing the man a few times to the neck, each strike resulting in a bright flash. The man gurgled fearfully before quickly passing out, his head thumping lightly against the concrete.

Standing up the young wastelander moved his right hand through his hair before walking back towards the garbage can, breathing out a sigh of relief. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Kumiho staring at him in a combination of emotions including relief and concerned anger, which he knew unfortunately meant an unpleasant ear chewing. Sheathing his knife, he began looking through the shorter man's belongings.

"Thanks for the help," he said sincerely, before picking up the shorter man's pistol. He looked at the interesting design, before crouching down again to take the holster. "We'd have been in trouble if you hadn't stepped in."

"Uh, thanks," she said somewhat in an unsure tone, before chuckling angrily. "Wait! Wait! No! Why are you out here? How did you know they had aura? **Why are you out here?** And just what the hell are you doing?"

"You asked why I'm here twice."

"Later," she said irritated, "What are you doing?"

"Searching their bodies," the Courier responded questioningly, as if confronted for doing something normal, like using the bathroom.

"Why?" She asked, shock in her voice.

"They might have something useful on them," he responded in a manner as if doing absolutely nothing wrong.

"... I mean, _why_ are you looting them?"

"I just told you."

"No... What in your head makes you think it's alright to loot a couple of unconscious dudes? Why would you ever think that would be, in _anyway_ an okay thing to do?"

"Because they attacked us?" The Courier asked in a rhetorical manner, questioning her questioning.

"And that makes it okay?" She asked in an exasperated tone. Looking back he noticed her face contorting in disgust at his actions.

The Courier then realized the old wasteland "scavenger's right", so widespread the New Californian Republic's Government adapted it into their ever growing legislature, didn't exist on Remnant. All wastelanders knew the old rule, that if someone attempted to end another's life, the latter immediately gained proprietary rights to their aggressor's belongings if they killed their aggressor in self-defense. He personally obtained his favorite shotgun when a legion assassin failed to blow his head off with it through said scavenging right, as well as several of his other weapons and almost all of his "spare parts" which filled the heaviest of his duffel bags. Of course, the rule also stipulated that outlaws, raiders, slavers and others of their ilk were considered "aggressors" by their "professions", and thus could be preemptively "self-defensed".

The wasteland is a just place, after all.

"Okay, fine!" the Courier said in fake exasperation, as if finally done with being hounded. "You caught me... I'm looking for information. It has to do with why I'm here." Technically not a lie, as information on took top priority in his search, but so did weapons and money.

"Oh? Really now," she said, suspicion in her voice. "And just why are you here?"

"You hear about all of those kidnappings," he said, and noticed her anger fade slightly. "Well, these two," he said pointing at the two unconscious men "Attempted to kidnap a kid yesterday. Some little homeless girl, lives in a homeless commune with her dog." He stood up, having found nothing but some magazines filled with ten millimeter rounds. Pocketing the ammo, he moved towards the larger of the two men, and began rifling through pockets, groping around for anything valuable.

"So," she said, irritation in her voice. "You lied to Cu? You decided to go hunt kidnappers for what reason? Why?" Looking up, the Courier stared at her face, filled with indignation and concern.

"I have to," he said, as he felt a small ring of keys in the guy's pocket. Blinking, he palmed them, shaking them once. "No one else will."

"You think you can do it alone, when even the police can't do crap about it?" She asked, anger fading to worry in her voice.

"I have to try," he said, looking at her with tired, but nevertheless determined eyes. He handed her one of the pistols, which she grabbed hesitantly. He looked her in her brown eyes "Can I get my Revolver back?"

"Uh, sure-Wait! Why are giving me his gun?"

"Because I want mine back?" he asked, as if his statement was the obvious answer. "And I don't want you unarmed... in fact, why are you unarmed?"

"I didn't expect to be mug- well… _kidnapped_ ," she said, handing over the revolver nonetheless, grabbing the kidnappers pistol in an informal exchange. "Shouldn't we leave them for the police? You know... evidence?"

 _And give up free guns?_

"No," the Courier said as he shook his head, before holding up the keys. "Besides, I think they'll find plenty evidence enough. Can you tie these guys up, please?" He asked, handing her his knife. "I'm going to check their car."

The Courier waited just long enough to watch her nod her head in acknowledgment, turning around as the sound of ripping clothes filled the alleyway. He approached the van apprehensively, feeling his grimace worsen as his artificial heart reacted to the small amount of tension in his body. Fear and apprehension used to feel different, with massive amounts muscle tension and rapid increases in heart rate, the thumping of his chest beating like a war drum when his fight or flight response triggered. Now, after one too many battles and implanted machines replacing his natural organs, he only felt his muscles tense slightly and his blood quicken by a hair in response, with no heartbeats making him feel as though his chest would burst, or implode upon itself.

Rounding around the raised roof vehicle, he faced its rear, a set of double doors instead of a small, chest like trunk, which defined almost all of the various vehicles the young wastelander encountered throughout his life traveling the roads and ancient, dilapidated highways that ran throughout the wasteland. It took him a good minute to find the right key, and by the time the mechanical click sounded, he could have easily just picked the lock at least three times. Kumiho had even finished binding the two would-be kidnappers. Grunting in satisfaction at finally finding the correct key the Courier opened the door.

He dreaded knowing whether or not his suspicions about the kidnappings would be validated or not, hoping desperately for the latter. He didn't make a single sound as the confirmation of his guesses stared him in the face. He blinked at the sight which met him, registering it into his mind without any emotional response, while listening to Kumiho choking in shock. Along the short walls of the large, closet like space hung various different faunus, a few with traits of animals other than mammals. Shackles kept their arms from falling, and each one of the women looked about as drugged-out as an unconscious Freeside junkie, eyes half lidded, unaware of the happenings of the world around them. Filthy rags covered all of their mouths, to prevent their screaming upon the possibility of becoming lucid. The Courier breathed quickly out of his nose, and took the step in, grabbing the knife from his paralyzed teammate's hand.

He had seen worse sights.

He spent the next several minutes taking the shackles off of the women, handing them to Kumiho, whom he had to gently nudge into focus. She lined all of them against the walls of the alley, having thrown the two kidnappers face first into the sole dumpster. The last woman awoke completely as the Courier made his way over to her, and locked eyes with him. Making gestures and speaking calming phrases he quickly unlocked the shackles which held her in place, gently leading her towards the open back doors. It took her a good five minutes to calm down enough to make the call with one of the myriad scrolls Kumiho found in the front of the Van. By the time the call had been made, the Courier had finished looking over the various women for injuries, and lying them down on the filthy ground to limit their movement, with helping them in mind rather than other things.

"Hey, Ca-"

"Courier," the Courier responded.

"What?" Kumiho responded.

"Call me Courier...er... please" he said, as he walked towards the green tinted car once again. Kumiho stood in front of the passenger side with folded, and stapled sheets of paper in her hand.

"Uh," she said staring at him confusedly, "Okay?"

"Most people call me that... well, before I met you guys they did," he said, looking at the sheet of paper. Gently taking the papers from her hands he opened and looked at them. Instructions on objectives filled the first sheet from top to bottom, with no information other than the kinds of "produce" that someone needed the two to "buy", and what areas contained enough "grocery stores" selling said "produce". Scowling he checked the second paper, which contained what he recognized, to his chagrin, as one long oddly spaced cipher code. He began going over the various common ciphers he learned during his wastes, mostly used to decipher old military documents which might have led to valuable loot, hoping that the code didn't require too much time to decipher.

"So uh, why should I call you Courier instead of... well... your name?" Kumiho asked him, as he groaned, having noticed the edge of a long shaft lodged just out from under the car itself. He sighed upon realizing what kind of cipher code they used. He hit the ground and felt around the object, searching for a trap.

"Because... uhng... We don't want people knowing our names, as other, less scrupulous people could use those to harm us," he said, having realized that no traps surrounded the shaft, but that the object required a key to remove. The Courier slammed his head on the bottom of the car in frustration, denting the smooth metal that made up the bottom of the car.

"Oh," she said, bluntly. Pausing before speaking again. "Okay... Um, what should I be called then?"

"Sorry," the Courier said, cursing as another key failed. "But... you won't be needing one. I'm doing this alone. Sorry."

"What?" she said indignantly. "What the hell do you mean you're going alone? They're obviously heavily armed! You could get killed!"

"Which is exactly _why_ I'm going alone," he replied finally getting the lock to open, and grabbing the edged shaft of metal. "One dead is better than two." Standing up, he turned around to look at his teammate and grimaced when faced with her stare, knowing too well where the conversation was going to head.

"But if I come with you, then the chances of coming out unharmed are raised. Besides," she said, pulling out a card from her pocket. She held it out in front of her for him to see. "Can you drive?"

* * *

The Courier opened his mouth to express his absolute desire to avoid riding in a vehicle before hearing the call that the one lucid faunus had finished, realizing the police would arrive soon. Groaning to himself, he gave a look of reluctant acceptance to his partner, who simply gave him a self-satisfied grin while sticking her thumb out towards the car.

The Courier's grunt came out muffled through his helmet, as he spied the building to which the oddly ancient cipher lead him and Kumiho. Through the windshield and the green tint of his helmet's night-vision he could make out the two stories of dilapidated concrete which made up the base of the two men who likely wore handcuffs of tougher material than clothes since the two members of team CRML left the alley. Looking over, his now armed teammate gripped the wheel nervously while staring out the window, her eyes shining like green stars against the pale green background the young wastelander observed.

It took them half an hour to reach the destination, due to their fifteen minute detour to some empty desert patch at the bottom of part of the city's tall cliffs. The Courier had called in their rocket lockers to the small patch as he rode uncomfortably in the passenger seat, knowing full well the Headmaster would ask him numerous questions if they made it back to the school. He stepped out of the vehicle and approached the edge of one of the walls, hiding his body from the two guards that stood in front of the garage doors which led into the building. He turned his head as his teammate walked behind him, crouching behind him.

"So," she whispered, "how are we going to get in?"

"Take out the guards first, then use one of their uniforms, scout the area, then finish off all of their forces. We free their prisoners last," He finished looking at her.

"Look," she said, looking at him unamused. "Those clothes may work for you, but what about me?"

"Right," he replied knowingly, checking his various weapons, the number of which Kumiho called excessive. The Courier then spent the minutes long drive to their destination pondering whether or not his habit of carrying a bit over half a dozen weapons truly was excessive as she and others expressed. "They'd see right through it. I guess-"

"Then again," she continued, a playful smirk on her face. "My chest is pretty flat. I could pass as a guy if I disguised my voice.

"There are bigger things than your chest!" the Courier said, an exasperated sigh following the statement.

"That's not saying much," Kumiho responded, with a sardonic grin. The Courier simply responded with an unamused stare, his disappointment clear through even his faceless helmet. She sighed. "I know, I can't exactly hide my tail, so they'd see right through it."

"Er," the Courier began, his confused, dumb looking expression hidden by the helmet. "Actually, I just don't think those clothes would fit you. You're... well... shorter than them."

"Oh I know that's what you meant," she said, in a manner of conveying the obvious, "But you're funny when you're confused."

"Please focus," the Courier said, getting the conversation back on topic. "I figure we need to silently take out the guards. We don't know what's inside, so..." He pointed towards the roof of a building opposite from them.

"Right," she said, a serious and firm tone in her voice, as she moved towards the edge of the wall, switching places with the Courier. "Going in guns blazing'll get us killed. You have a way to take them out silently right... Hey...Where did you go?"

The Courier watched his teammate briefly look around for him, before climbing the fire escape on the side of the building sitting across from their target. Looking over the edge of the building he lied down prone, pulling out the old, silenced, Circle of Steel sniper rifle he found outside of Little Yangtze, the name "Boone" etched haphazardly on the top of the barrel. He humphed and grinned slightly, remembering when he etched the name into the rifle, just the day before parting ways with the companions and friends he had made. He wanted something to help him think back on all the misadventures Boone, ED-E and he went through on their way towards the gleaming city of New Vegas.

He looked through his scope at the building and counted the various guards around it. Counting no more than the two in the front, guarding the closed garage doors which led into the wide building, he held his breath briefly before pulling the trigger. He watched as one of the metal trashcan next to the building toppled over, spilling various refuse all over the sidewalk that ran next to the building. The two guards jumped at the sound, readying their strange shotguns. The one to the left looked briefly at the other, motioning with his head towards the garbage can. As the guard to the right walked towards the trash can, his fellow reached his hand towards a device on his chest. Quickly realizing his intention, the Courier pulled the trigger, abandoning his previous strategy of waiting until one of them reached the garbage can to start taking them down, firing off another Armor Piercing round into the skull of the guard calling in the disturbance. Quickly aiming the rifle at the other guard the Courier pulled the trigger as soon as the reticule passed over the man's chest, before pulling it again as the main made a grunt of pain, his body hurting despite his Aura taking the damage for him. The man collapsed, dropping his shotgun onto the sidewalk for anyone passing to grab. Releasing air he didn't remember breathing in, he stood up and made his way back towards his teammate who simply stared at him for a minute in silent fear.

"I couldn't hear those shots," she said nervously, eying Boone with a frightened glare. "What-what kind of silencer _is_ that."

"A good one," the Courier said, a cool flatness in his voice. Kumiho backed up for a second, looking at the Courier with a large amount of apprehension. Cu told him that the senses of Faunus far outshine most humans', and he figured a silencer that silenced shots to the point not even Faunus could hear them frightened her. After all, if no one heard the shots, then the weapon could kill countless people in the right, or wrong, hands.

 _Perhaps she thinks the weapon was specifically designed for killing civilians_ he thought.

"W-well," Kumiho stuttered out, nervously following her team leader as he walked towards the garage doors. "You certainly know how to use it well... Those guards certainly didn't see it coming!" Stuttering out the last bit, the Courier felt her eyes watching him nervously as he lifted up one of the strange shotguns. Studying it for a moment, the Courier shrugged, placing it against the small pillar between the two garage doors, doing the same with his partner's before picking up the closest body.

"If-oof! He's heavy. If Lili used Boone," he said, grunting as he carried the unconscious guard towards one of the side alleys. "She wouldn't have needed to distract them by shooting at a garbage can. I've seen her skill at the range. Can you get the other guard, please?"

She huffed a laugh as she passed him, smiling somewhat as she grabbed the other man and threw him over her shoulder with merely a toss. They carried the two guards to the alley, throwing them into a dumpster whose lock the Courier had to pick, locking it once more after closing the lid. Walking back in front of the steel doors, the two stared at them. Kumiho's face scrunched up in concern, only to find a bandanna being handed to her. When she looked up at him, he simply nodded, making a motion to put it around her mouth. The Courier on the door a couple of times as she tied the back ends together behind her head, getting an odd look from Kumiho before a voice interrupted them.

"Dammit guys, it isn't even the end of your shift yet! You know I can't open the doors, the boss'll have my ass!" The gruff voice said from within the garage. The Courier simply responded by knocking harder, to be met with footsteps approaching the garage doors, and the man responding in anger. "You know, pissing in an alleyway isn't that-oh shi-"

The Courier interrupted the coat wearing man with a punch to the gut and a quick stab to the throat, knocking him out due to the drain in the man's aura from the lethal blow. He caught the unconscious man before he hit the ground, and dragged him over behind one of the trailers of two eighteen wheeled trucks sitting aligned to the two garage doors. After disarming the man, and throwing him into the back of the trailer, he sighed in relief, before looking back at his partner.

"Ax?" the Courier said, getting Kumiho's attention, "I need you to cut the tires on that truck. We need to make sure they can't escape." Kumiho simply nodded her head in response, taking one of the pen-knifes from the toolkit that laid on top of one of the sets of drawers that stood on the other side of the garage. The two spent a good minute and a half stabbing the tires of both vehicles. After finishing, and joining his partner at the door leading to the inside proper, he pulled out Boone. Holding his breath, the Courier opened the door before looking

Muffled cries of excitement could be heard throughout the building, alongside a pungent odor composed of a mixture of sweat, oil, blood and fluids which brought the Couriers mind to horrible places. Rusty metal doors lined the hallway on both sides of the grimy hallway, and the cries emanated from behind each and every one of them. A lone guard fidgeted slightly at a cross section between hallways. The Courier threw a small lug-nut from the ground of the garage to the side of one of the doors closer to him, catching the guy's attention. Sticking to the shadows, the man didn't notice as the Courier aimed his silenced rifle at his head. He continued being oblivious up to the point the bullet actually smacked against his noggin, causing the man to collapse. Advancing through the hall, Kumiho following just behind him, he made his way to the unconscious man. He pointed towards the man, and then thumbed back towards the garage, giving Kumiho a gaze at the end. Nodding, she picked up the man and carried him back as the Courier advanced to a crossways between the current hall and another, which made a cross shaped intersection. He briefly wondered about the original purpose of the Building before backing against the left wall. Inching towards the edge he noticed the side of a man watching the hallway that intersected with his current one.

The Courier breathed in before getting on his stomach and quickly looking down the half of the hallway opposite to the one with the guard, grimacing when another met his vision before pulling himself away from where either of the guards could see him. Sighing to himself, he took aim at the man down the right path, biting his lip as he pulled the trigger. The man collapsed as he rounded the corner, pulling the trigger as soon as the next guard's chest met the scope, felling him as well. The Courier breathed out a sigh of relief as he walked over to the second guard and picked him up. Noticing Kumiho rounding the corner he pointed towards the other end of the hall, getting a nod in confirmation. It took them both a few minutes to carry the two bodies back to the garage, and they reentered the silent hallway, staring down the first half of the hallway leading from the garage.

The Courier crouched down and motioned for his teammate to do the same. Stalking quietly, the young wastelander pointed to the left, where the sound of grunting and cheering came from the now unguarded door. While his partner crept towards the left door, he crept towards the one on the right, from which nearly silenced shouts of anger came from, occasionally being broken with the sound of a blow being made. The stench of blood came in through the crack below the door. Gripping his knife tightly, he opened the door silently, as his teammate did the same from across the hallway.

"So Billy goat gruff," the burly man just a few meters in front of him said, as the wastelander snuck in, closing the door silently behind him. In the bright light of the room he found himself staring at two standing men, neither looking towards the door, while a third sat handcuffed to a chair. The third man's shirt had been taken off, and the two standing men had given the man heavy beatings, as bruises and cuts covered his thin chest. The man in the chair glanced oddly at the Courier, showing him two flat bloody circles on either side of his forehead. The main raised his eyebrows before focusing on the man in front of him. "I'll ask this once more before I cut your balls off. When and where are your asshole friends going to show up?"

"I-ugha!" the man coughed loudly, filling the room with the sound of phlegm being spread everywhere, continuing as the Courier snuck up behind the closest torturer. Covered by the sounds of loud coughs the Courier began strangling him with the barrel of his hunting shotgun, moving backwards so the current interrogator couldn't hear the gurgling. The torture victim only stopped coughing when the Courier gently placed the unconscious man on the ground next to the door.

"I told you," the victim spoke up again, his deep voice filled with pain. "I'm here alone. They don't even-AGH!"

The torturer kicked him in the groin stopping the man's statement, which the young wastelander assumed the man gave before. When the interrogator pulled out his knife, the Courier tripped him. As soon as the man's head hit the ground, the Courier smashed his right hand to the man's neck choking him, while using his left hand to keep the knife away. The Courier's right foot kept the man's left hand immobile as he choked the consciousness out of the man. After a few moments the man's body went limp, and he dropped the knife. Making sure the two men stayed down, the Courier stomped on their heads, cracks and blood indicating their depleted auras. As the Courier walked around the man, he spoke up.

"Ugh! I feel like slab of meat at a butcher's shop! Who are you anyway? You don't look like you're one of my brothers."

"Hmm... Just a friend I guess," the Courier hummed in response as he began picking the lock to the handcuffs. "So, here to help save them?"

"Yeah," the man laughed out cynically as the Courier finished picking the lock, taking off the Handcuffs. "Though I don't know what I was thinking, taking on this place alone. I guess I deserted for nothing. Thanks for the help, though."

"No problem. Here" the Courier said, as he pulled out the strange shotgun, handing it to the odd man, who took it with less hesitation than Kumiho. "I think you might find some use out of this. Also, you should probably take their clothes, bound to help you blend in better than going around shirtless."

"I guess," the odd man said crouching over the larger unconscious man. The Courier barely turned around when he heard the distinct sounds of a knife stabbing into flesh. The Courier shrugged, and walked out the door, only to see his teammate throwing up on the ground. He rubbed her on the back reassuringly as she hacked the contents of her stomach all over the concrete floor. She looked up at her leader with eyes filled to the brim with horror, hidden under a heavy mountain of anger.

"Ca-Courier," She said, tears forming from the acid burning up her sinuses. "They're... They're-"

"Slavers," the Courier interrupted in a quiet blunt tone, "I know. I can smell what's happening, what they're doing. I've fought savages like them before. I'm sorry you had to find out like this."

"Why?"

"Their choices," he began, "For whatever reason. Money, power, pleasure. They find it easy so they do it, losing themselves to-" He looked down at her scrunching face, sadness etched on it. He closed his mouth and frowned under his helmet. He placed his hand on her shoulder, patting it a couple of times, calming her down slightly. The odd man exited the room shortly thereafter, a frown on his face as he looked down the hall, his nose scrunching from the stench.

The Courier didn't blame him; the smells of sexual fluids reminded him too much of the horrors he experienced in his life on earth. He growled as he took a peek into the room Kumiho came from, and smiled at the unconscious bodies. Looking forward he matched his gaze with a girl, drugged out staring right back at him, her eyes only containing a brief hint of lucidity. He brought himself over to her, carefully, and stared through his visor into her eyes, never looking at anything below her cat like eyes. He looked briefly above her head before bending down, noticing only one cat ear, when there should have been two.

"Help'll come soon," he said gently, as he picked her up, her eyes lolling over him before she went limp from exhaustion, only her gentle breathing letting him know she still lived. Carrying her out of the room he listened as some conversation between the other two died as he moved her into the other room. The two men who he knocked out lay dead on the ground, in pools of their own blood. Gently, he set the woman down near a corner, facing away from the two dead men, before heading out of the room.

"He's better than your 'brothers and sisters'" Kumiho said, her sadness replaced with aggression. "At least he's-"

"Don't you ever say that again!" The man the Courier saved practically yelled, causing the Courier to wince and look down the hall. "I know damn well none of them give a crap. He's probably...Alright," he said looking at the young wastelander with murder in his eyes. "Why the hell are you here? Huh?"

"Be quiet! We-" the Courier began whispering.

"Don't you da-" the man started to shout before the Courier threw him against the wall, his knee in his crotch and his hands on his mouth and right arm.

"Don't yell," the Courier whispered flatly, "We have an advantage. It'd be best if you didn't throw that away for us." The Courier let go of him and the man growled at him in utter hatred. "I don't know what I did to piss you off, but can we save it for later. We have to take care of these rooms. Okay, you're going to ha-"

"I'm, going upstairs. If you _children_ " the odd man spat, "actually manage to get through more than one room, don't bother coming upstairs. I don't want your help."

 _You seemed pretty eager for it earlier_ the Courier thought dryly as the man snuck off angrily, shotgun in hand. The Courier sighed and palmed his helmet, knowing the man might just get them all killed through his actions before looking over at his partner. Opening his mouth before closing it in reconsideration, he exhaled through his nose before walking on, shrugging before gesturing for his teammate to follow.

"Freaking asshole," she said, disgust in her voice, before shooting the Courier a sympathetic glare. "Sorry I-."

"Shh," the Courier whispered nodding understandingly, before looking down the hallway with a grimace. He shook his head no while placing a finger over the mask component of his helmet. He then pointed to the left door again, and his teammate nodded, a determined expression in her eyes.

* * *

"He at least cares enough to come here," The Courier whispered as he dumped yet another unconscious goon into the small pile. He handed another firearm to his partner, who then took it into the opposite room, into another pile, which a small group of faunus laid across from.

"I thought you didn't want to talk?" Kumiho asked, her hand on her chest, as they reentered the now empty hallway. The Courier simply pointed in the direction they headed towards, where only a wall met them. He smiled under his helmet, genuine pride in how his teammate lost track of their own progress over the past fifteen minutes, not realizing they had finished clearing out the last hallway of the bottom floor. "Oh... Did we miss any rooms?"

"Nope," The Courier answered tersely as he locked the last door, breaking off the key so that no one could enter unless they busted the door down. The Courier frowned to himself as he looked down the hallway. They encountered little resistance, most of those they knocked out were unarmed, indicating they came to the building as customers. The few guards they did encounter who noticed fell unconscious too quickly to actually stop the two huntsmen in training. They even managed to make it through the entire compound in just under fifteen minutes, only two or three close calls when some of the "customers" exited the rooms.

It all seemed too easy.

"We need to head upstairs," he said simply, figuring the man upstairs might encounter problems soon. He nodded his head towards the stairs and motioned for his partner to follow him. After reaching the top, Kumiho gasped, letting out only a brief scream before the Courier hugged her, her back to his chest, and covered her mouth with his hand, silencing her scream. A corpse lied in a pool of blood just in front of them, the work of the man they freed. The Courier sighed, wondering why she cared that some slaver died, rather than scream at the sight of the slaves' torment. He held her like that until her breathing stabilized, nodding in apology as he motioned for them to continue on.

As they walked on, noticing several rooms had been skipped over, the Courier cursed the man's inability to hide bodies properly. He figured that whenever the guard shift occurred that they'd notice the corpse and start shooting to get the attention of everyone in the building. As soon as that thought left his head, a body burst from the door with a loud crash. As he looked down, noticing the straining form of the rude man, his face took on an exasperated expression, and he rolled his eyes as if his two allies could see it.

 _I should have left him tied up_ the Courier thought as he forced his teammate and himself against the wall. He then stared at the door as a broad, blue dressed man walked out, staring at the injured torture victim with annoyance. The man held a long, odd looking nodachi, with many mechanical parts near the end of the handle. On his back hung a quiver of arrows, a large, blood-soaked rabbit ear hanging like a necklace off of its side. A dim light faded as he cracked his neck, and breathed out before walking forward with a similar swagger to Jacob Frost.

The Courier's neck hairs stiffened as he carefully took out his customized LASER, the huntsman pointing his nodachi at his ally's neck. Aiming carefully for the center of the nodachi, the Courier's eyes widened before rolling to the side, an arrow striking and embedding into the wall behind where he crouched.

"Don't think I don-" the man began before being hit by a blue laser, causing him to miss the next shot with his nodachi-turned-longbow. The man began to dodge and fired off an arrow, hitting the ground underneath where the Courier rolled from, causing a small explosion which sent the Courier flying into a wall. Recovering steadily, despite dozens of cuts in his arms and legs, the Courier rolled once again to the side, firing off a shot into the man's arm, causing him to miss, creating a hole in one of the walls. Charging to just behind the intersecting hall's wall, he motioned for his partner to take the unconscious man away from the battlefield. Reloading his LAER he fired blindly at the man, causing him to take cover in one of the rooms as his partner threw the unconscious man over her shoulder, carrying him into the room he had been launched out of.

Hearing doors open from his right the Courier sprinted to the other side before pulling out his revolver, firing off a round into the head of the first man to pop out of one of the doors, knocking him out quickly. The next few men exited guns blazing, shotguns shells hitting his armor with enough force to stun the young wastelander. Sidestepping to keep his balance, he fired once into each of the guards heads. Stepping backwards and with his right foot at an obtuse angle, he swung his revolver sideways as he turned his body, pistol-whipping the grunt coming up behind him in the right eye, causing him to recoil in pain. Turning the young grunt around, the Courier used him as a shield, backing towards his corner, shooting the last two rounds into the head and throat of the two guards who rushed him. Smacking his revolver into the back of his living shield's head, and knocking him out, he turned around only to duck from a slice aimed at his neck.

Dropping his revolver, and dodging to the side, he avoided the man's powerful kick. Not fast enough, the Courier felt the blade cut into his right arm, causing a sharp bolt of pain to fly up his arm. The Courier felt a brief gush of blood flow out, before slowing down slightly. Dodging the downward thrust by rolling backwards into a standing position, the Courier grabbed the LAER he dropped when he switched sides from the hallway. Firing as soon as the laser-plasma hybrid rifle was at waist level, he hit the huntsman square in the stomach pushing him slightly back. The Courier slowly moved backwards, feeling the PHOENIX Monocyte Breeders beginning to close up his cuts. He fired off another shot, the beam hitting the man just as the man dodged. The Courier managed to finally aim his gun at the man's head only to feel the familiar blow of a baseball bat to the back of his head.

Stumbling forward, the Courier drunkenly dodged to the right as his assailant made a second downward swing, only to go wide-eyed. Dodging backwards and looking behind him, he smirked in relief as his partners massive two handed ax met the nodachi, saving his life. Dodging another swing of the baseball bat, the Courier grabbed the barrel of the bat with his hands, dropping the LAER in the process. Shoving hard he smacked the knob of the bat into the man's, causing him to release his grip. Twirling the bat in his right hand, the Courier gripped the handle tightly before swinging the bat in a wide arc towards the man's head. The barrel met the man's face, forcing him into the wall as the swing continued, despite both the head and the bat's momentum meeting the wall. A loud crack sounded out as the wooden bat broke in half from the impact, followed by a dull thud as the man's unconscious body fell to the Ground. Looking at the now broken bat, the top only hanging on by a small series of string like pieces of wood, the Courier hummed. Placing it down carefully he then picked up his LAER and turned to help his partner before pausing.

She met the man's horizontal slice with an upward swing of her ax causing the man to adopt a panicked look as his she launched his blade into the ceiling. Spinning in almost a circle, her right foot stepping towards the man, she, a glowing purple haze enveloping her arms, swung her battle-axe under her, ripping through the concrete floor and striking the huntsman in his chest as he tried to dodge backwards. Thrown by the blow he hit the wall, only barely getting up as she fired off the multiple shotguns which made up the top of her ax's haft, sending him once again flying into the wall, only to flop onto the ground unconscious.

"That was some good work," the Courier said sincerely, an impressed smile hidden by his helmet.

"Same to you," she said turning around. She closed her eyes and exhaled in relief before giving the Courier a concerned glare. "However..."

 _Uh oh._

"Don't think I didn't notice you bleeding after taking a hit. You have explaining to do," she said with a heavy emphasis. The Courier opened his mouth, only to pick up the very distant sounds of sirens. Grimacing as he looked towards the stairs, he sighed in frustration at the way the mission went.

"Yup."

* * *

 **AN: The Courier isn't a pacifist, but he is practical, and in this one specific case, knocking them out took less time than killing them. And yes, I am going the route of Taken, in terms of what the villains are doing.**

 **Hope you like horrible implications!**

 **As always, thank you for reading!**


	9. Broken Aura

_March 4, 2282  
He stood behind me all these years. When people their children the greatest enemies are themselves, they generally mean the greatest challenge they will ever face will be from their own deluded self-doubt. _

_In my case, however…_

 _"Caleb, what the hell did you find?"_  
 _-Rose of Sharon Cassidy, upon the Courier returning from the Divide_

 **Chapter 9: Broken Aura**

"Sorry. That's everything sirs," the Courier said, looking across the table at the three men. The old Headmaster bowed his head, leaning it upon bridged hands, his fur lined collar swaying as if in the wind from the momentum. He sighed heavily and the professors who stood by grimaced in thought.

"Faunus traffickers..." the gray haired grimm professor said in his typical gravel filled tone. "I don't like the smell of this, it's too high profile-They're never this direct!" He closed his eyes for a moment before looking at the black haired wastelander. "But we can discuss that later. You mentioned... large trucks?" He asked, only getting a nod in confirmation. He turned the headmaster. "They're being shipped to Vale."

The Headmaster nodded twice, his eyes narrowed, and responded, "And from there, to Mistral and Atlas."

"I'll have my contacts in the SDC see if they can dig up any information about the trade," the combat instructor, Schwarz Schäfer, stated with a disgusted scowl forming on his face. "Wouldn't be surprised if they get some of their 'workers' from the traffickers."

"Ironwood needs to be informed of this," the headmaster spoke up, his voice quiet yet stern, gathering the attention of the two professors. Professor Schäfer gave him a quizzical look, even as the older of the two nodded in agreement. "Of the others, he's the only one who would take any action, Schwarz."

The young combat instructor sighed before speaking up, "I guess so. Knowing how Mistral works, I have no clue whether or not Haven's Headmaster would risk getting involved. I can never tell what goes through their head."

"And the less said about what Ozpin'd do, the better," the Grimm professor said with a growl of distaste.

The Headmaster chuckled and exclaimed, "Now, now! You give our mutual friend too little credit! Yes, he prefers letting things play out, like a chess game, but you, Wilk, know well that to beat a chess-master, one must think like one. He must be doing something right. After all, he held _them_ off this long."

A lengthy silence overcame the office as the old grimm studies professor sighed and slumped his shoulders in resignation, as if hearing an old argument. The Courier looked back and forth between the three older men in the room, attempting to figure out where he stood in all of their discussions. From what he surmised, since he knew Headmaster Ozpin resided in Vale, and they mentioned a reluctant headmaster of Haven Academy in Mistral, that this "Ironwood" must be in charge of the academy in Atlas.

He frowned. They never mentioned the plans for dealing with the kidnapping situation in Vacuo. Looking across from him he found them staring back at him, knowing looks in their eyes, with professor Bialy giving him his trademark cynical grin. Schäfer just gave him a studious glance, before shrugging. The Headmaster humphed curiously when the Courier's eyes matched his, and smiled knowingly at him.

"What is on your mind, Mr. Caleb?" The Headmaster asked, still smiling.

"You mentioned the other countries... But what about Vacuo. If this place is where they get most of their victims," he said, letting his words sink in.

"Well," the grimm studies professor spoke up, shrugging and giving a half smile, "You took down one of their bases alongside just one of your teammates. I figure regardless of what we tell you to do or not do, you'll go after them again regardless."

The Courier blinked before speaking, "Wh-"

"Don't think you're the first student to attempt to go out and fight injustice," Schäfer stated bluntly.

"We even have a term for them: 'Interns'," Professor Bialy spoke up, an amused smile on his face, before chuckling. "Let's just say they don't stay interns for long. They either give up by the end of their fourth year, or they start doing it professionally."

"Mr. Caleb," the Headmaster interrupted, a frown on his face. "Know this. Of all that which students have gone out and fought, the enemies you wish to face are likely the most sadistic."

"Students haven't attempted to try and free slaves before?" the Courier asked, his eyebrow twitching and his nose scrunch in confusion.

"No," the two professors stated at once, causing the young wastelander to blink. They sighed sadly.

"They always focus on the high profile things: robberies, gang violence, White Fang-you get the idea. They've never attempted to stop something this... deep down, I guess," Professor Bialy continued, scratching under the ponytail on the back of his head. He smiled warmly, "But hey, I can't fault the interns. Those groups are dangerous, and this is world is better with them beaten down and in a jail cell."

The combat professor chimed in, an apologetic smile on his face, "It's likely because they lack the knowledge of such an enemy."

"Right," the Grimm professor stated, shaking his head. "Why would they know, when everyone tries to keep these things quiet?"

The room remained silent as the four looked at each other before drifting their eyes to elsewhere in the room. The sounds of distant arguments and laughter rose all the way to the top of the tower, creating a mental dissonance within the Courier's mind in regards to his experiences the night before. He looked over towards the electric clock on the holographic panel on the headmaster's desk, noting he slept past his usual waking hour. Moaning lightly, he rubbed his head in anticipation for having to deal with the extra nightmares the REM portion of his sleep cycle would throw at him since he knew through experience how sleep deprivation extends that stage of sleep.

"Well Mr. Caleb," the Headmaster said, grabbing his attention, "Thank you for informing us of your... activities last night, but I think it's about time you enjoyed the remainder of your weekend. Eat some breakfast, get some sleep, but by the First, at least attempt to talk to your friends. Social interaction may just help to alleviate your mental anguish."

The Courier grunted in acknowledgment before walking into the elevator behind him. As its double doors closed, he could hear the conversation begin once again. "Do you think she-," was all he heard before the elevator descended too far for him to hear any more of the conversation.

Stepping out as the doors opened, he looked about him to find no one waiting for him. The students remaining on the academy grounds over the weekend ignored him as he walked towards the cafeteria. The campus, despite the presence of some small part of its population, remained somewhat silent, the distant cries of animals in the distance creating a nice, muted ambiance for the weekend desert morning.

He took the quick route to his dormitory, ignoring the tantalizing scent of warm food wafting into the hallway as he passed by the cafeteria. After a few minutes of walking across the sizable campus, he walked up the stairs leading to the second floor dorm rooms. Similar in fashion to when Mr. House handed him the metaphorical keys to the Presidential Suite, that the alien feeling of sleeping in the same place for more than a day caused him to feel extremely uneasy. Traveling always caused him to experience nightmares far less horrifying than when he remained in the same place, due to having adapted well to a mobile lifestyle.

Stepping up the final step he let out a quick breath as none of the students who shared the same dormitory floor as his team had decided to mill about the hall like a Freeside Junkie. That made getting into the room much easier, and it lowered the chances of them ambushing him like a Legion Assassin squad and firing questions off again. It seemed that to the people of Remnant, coming back from a trip elsewhere sporting bandages or limping made you a target of inquiry. Then again, he felt like a hypocrite for being bothered by such inquiries when he did much the same back on Earth, even though his questioning often involved a more liberal use of the word "where" than those questioning him.

Shaking his head, the young wastelander placed his scroll up against the electric lock, and groaned as he remembered the scroll needed to be on to open the door. The sound of creaking and the door across the hall opening only caused him to clench his eyes before looking upwards at the ceiling in resignation. Turning his head to look at them with his right eye he found himself staring at two members from team NDGO, who lived across from his team, both of who gave him a rather surprised stare. Then Gwen's face took on an anger, and the Courier closed his eyes as she began to yell at him, despite her teammate's efforts to prevent her from exclaiming her anger.

"Where. In. The. DUST! Were you Last night?" She yelled her eyes twitching. "You were gone so long on your freaking 'errands' that we were beginning to think you got hurt again!"

"Sorry Gwen," the Courier said remorsefully, as he turned around fully, causing Octavia to gasp. "But it was important. You can trust me on that."

Her closed eyes twitched and she yelled out, "How could these things take all night? You had Cu worried sick! And... _You're wounded?_ How? Why? You just finished recovering and you're injured _again!_ "

The Courier winced at the mention of his partner's worry, and replied, "I'm really sorry, but I'm alright. They're just a couple of cuts and bruises, that's all!"

"That black-eye doesn't look like just a normal bruise to me Caleb," Octavia interjected, her usual energetic voice covered in unwanted concern.

The Courier held his expression as he touched the bruise around his left eye gently. The regret he felt from when Kumiho and he dragged the, sadly hornless, goat faunus to the alleyway returned, alongside numerous other negative emotions, all aimed towards himself. The Courier shrugged as he faced his two friends again, remembering the-thankfully-few times where his aid had been reciprocated with naught but anger and hatred. He compared the events following their exit from the slaver hub with such reciprocation, and felt little anger towards the young faunus, due to the content of the shouts he aimed towards the young wastelander.

"Just something I received for being racist," he said, chuckling without any mirth.

" _Racist_?" Gwen asked in tone that radiated skepticism like a nuclear waste disposal site, with eyebrows raised and her hands on her hips. Octavia gave him a surprisingly deadpan look, as if the words which came out of his mouth formed Remnant's most inane sentence.

Not exactly the reaction he hoped for, having banked on rage rather than skepticism. He found it odd that they only now gave him the "really" look, even after telling his altered tale about how he met Raul Tejada. Apparently highly trained criminals kidnapping an eighty year old automobile repairman to fix up a modified Atlesian Knight was more believable than him being racist.

 _I should feel honored that they don't believe me, but... now of all times?_

"Caleb," Gwen said closing her eyes. "Just because you use 'humans' instead of 'people' before correcting yourself doesn't make you racist. Who called you racist?"

"It's a long story, and I don't want to talk about it. I just told a man I understood what he went through and he sort of...well... I kind of deserved it," he finished looking at the ceiling while rubbing the back of his head.

Gwen responded to the Courier's last statement by raising her eyebrows and glaring at him with wide eyes and an almost exaggerated pursed frown. Octavia smacked her face with her hand and gave him yet another incredulous glare, causing him to slump forward slightly. Looking on stoically, he watched as Gwen opened her mouth and took a large breath. Sighing, he closed his eyes, and shook his head.

 _Why me?_ the Courier thought as he blocked out the myriad shouts Gwen aimed at him. _I don't deserve people's concern. Cu has a broken leg for God's sake! That's much worse than a black eye!_

"-hate yourself!" She finished, looking at the Courier expectantly. "Well?"

The Courier simply shrugged in response, earning exasperated glares from his two neighbors. Octavia looked once at his scars with what appeared to be concern, as if she suddenly came to some realization regarding how he earned them. He opened his mouth to respond when the door behind him opened, and he turned around for a single moment before quickly turning to face the girls with another one of his _trademark_ blank looks, though he felt his eye twitch ever so slightly. His partner, Cu, stood in the middle of the doorway staring at the three students in the hallway as he wiped away the sleep discharge that accumulated in the corners of his eyes...wearing nothing but a loose sagging pair of boxer shorts the same tint of lightish-gray as his eyes. He heard as a student lightly popped out of their bed in one of the rooms at the end of the hall, before the permeating silence returned.

 _At least it's not as awful as that time Cass decided to leave the Lucky Thirty-eight drunk and-_

The Courier shook his head to rid himself of the mental image of Cass nearly getting the entire group exiled from the Strip during one of the rare times the Courier's stayed more than five hours-which he normally spent sleeping-in the presidential suite. Of course, he only really hated the fact his bullet-riddled, bed-ridden body forced Boone into going after her, which only ended up exacerbating the issue.

 _Well the King thought it was funny,_ the Courier thought idly before remembering where he currently stood. He watched stoically as Gwen looked to the side, an embarrassed look on her face, while Octavia stared at Cu's stomach for a long moment, before staring at the Courier's. She squinted her eyes at his dirty, gray t-shirt for a straight fifteen seconds before realizing the young wastelander had been watching her stare at his stomach, and promptly looked away in embarrassment.

"Cu," the Courier said, listening as his partner came into full consciousness and gasped in surprise. "You might want to look down."

He listened and fought back a smug grin as his partner yelped slightly, before blinking in response to his partner dragging him inside the room. The indignant cries from the two members of Team NDGO could be heard through the dark wooden door, and the Courier snorted in amusement as Cu attempted to put on a pair of dark blue pants-with legs so short they might as well have been boxers simply missing the y-flap-with a desperate ferocity. Looking around the room, lit only by the filtered light through the gray curtains, he watched as the fourth member of his team, Lili, woke up with a massive yawn. She scratched her side as she quietly hummed before groggily getting out of bed, only to freeze when she locked eyes with him. Against the tranquil ambiance consisting of two girls banging their fists on a wooden door and a young man cursing the fact he fell in the middle of getting the pair of short pants on, she coughed and continued staring at her team's leader.

"So," the Courier began after the quietest member of his team blinked at him in surprise before walking over to the room's bathroom, grabbing her toothbrush. "How was the Atlesian breakfast?"

"Good," she said quietly, as she squeezed the toothpaste onto the brush. "And your barbeque?"

The Courier took on a dazed expression and replied, "Wonderful," before watching the grey haired teenager brush her teeth, spitting out the mixture of mint scented paste and saliva that accumulated during her short teeth-cleaning session. Hearing footsteps to his side he turned and faced his partner, who looked at him with his bright, light-grey eyes and gave him a relieved grin.

"Cu?" the Courier said, while looking down to the waistline that ended just below his partner's abs.

"Caleb," Cu said in a deep, faux-gravelly voice, hiding his accent while giving the Courier a sharks grin and a fake discerning glare.

"Sorry, but... Why are you still shirtless?"

Cu shook his head in faux-disappointment and said, "Caleb, Caleb, Caleb... bud, friend, pal. There are two gorgeous women standing just outside our door! How can I possibly impress them if I don't show them my magnificent abs?"

"Uh," The Courier replied with a blank look etched on his face. He blinked twice and mouthed a question too impolite to say. "Why does that matter?"

Cu gaped and responded, "Why does-Caleb! Impressing women-or men if you prefer, _I'mnotgonnajudge_ -is like-like, the second most important thing for a huntsman! I mean... I can't really explain it all that well. It's just important!"

"I'm not telling you not to do it," the Courier replied shrugging. "I'm just saying there are things far more important than flirting right now."

"Oh yes, Caleb. You are absolutely correct."

The Courier clenched his eyes shut and grimaced in discomfort as the two male members of the four man team named after a confectionery long absent from his world turned around. In the doorway stood three women, two who appeared confused and one who stared at the two men with her arms crossed. The two members of team NDGO, a confused expression on their face followed Kumiho as she approached the Courier. Standing before her team leader, the young fox faunus jabbed a finger into his gut causing him to flinch slightly as she began rubbing her finger, having jammed it against his reinforced muscles. She groaned slightly as she looked up to his face, only to glare in surprise as she observed the young wastelander's rather worried expression.

"Is somethin' wrong?" Cu asked, causing everyone to scrutinize the pair. They only looked away when the sound of a growling stomach broke the brief moment of silence. Looking up, they smirked as Octavia looked to the side in embarrassment.

Kumiho sighed and said "It'll probably be easier for us if you two went to go eat."

The two girls barely managed to open their mouths before Kumiho began brusquely pushing the two members of team NDGO outside, much to their own chagrin. Closing the door she turned back towards the rest of her team, allowing them all to see just how dark the spots under her eyes. Wiping her eyes she took a seat on her bed just as Lili left the bathroom. The three other members of team CRML watched as she sighed and lied down onto her own bed, staring intently at the ceiling.

"Look," the Courier said in a stern tone, "You may be curious about what happened last night, but trust me, it isn't important."

"Caleb," she said stoically, blinking once, "why didn't you tell us your aura isn't activated?"

"Whoa," Cu whispered, "awesome."

"Cu, you say something?" Kumiho asked giving Cu a curious glance. He merely shook his head and motioned for her to continue.

"Anyway," she said, looking from Cu to the Courier. "Seriously, though Caleb. What in the dust filled hell made you think fighting without an aura was a good idea?"

The Courier opened his mouth only to be interrupted by-to both his and Kumiho's surprise-Lili, whose spoke out calmly with just a hint of apprehension. "He has exactly seven, Miho. Not one more...not one less."

Kumiho's eyes went wide and she stared at her own partner in horror for a good moment. It took her a good fifteen seconds before she returned her gaze back to the Courier. She stared at him in confusion for a dozen seconds before repeatedly studying him from head to toe. She then turned back to her partner.

"Like... right now?" she asked. "Without his armor? Without his helmet?"

Lili responded quietly, "When he's in his gear, two disappear and all but the obvious are diminished."

"His neck?" Kumiho asked, only to receive a fierce nodding in response from the quiet sniper wolf faunus.

 _Uh oh_

"My neck?" the Courier asked, hiding his nervousness by keeping an emotionless tone. The two girls simply looked at each other for a moment before turning to face him, at which point he noticed Lili's eye color changed from her normally dark gray to a bright green, and for some reason, white string-like lines formed the shapes of numbers in her pupil. She blinked a few times and looked to the side, her eyes returning to their natural color. She shrugged and looked away, in a manner he knew by experience conveyed the message: "I would rather not talk about it".

Kumiho opened and closed her mouth several times before speaking up. "S-So anyway, I think it'd be best if we unlocked your aura. That way we won't have to worry about you getting killed out in the training arena."

"Uh," The Courier quickly responded looking back and forth nervously, passing over Cu, whose eager grin continued to grow in intensity, to the point he appeared bloodthirsty. "That's alright! I don't really need it unlocked."

"Yes you do," Lili spoke up, with surprising assertion in her voice. "Even with only seven... uh... never mind... but you do need aura... um... other... otherwise you might not..." Lili trailed off looking away nervously from the Courier who continued to look about himself in confusion. "You need it to protect yourself... it... it's required to use dust properly."

"I've been able to use dust rounds without it." The Courier retorted.

"Dust rounds are different, Caleb," Kumiho explained. "All you have to do is pull a trigger and ignite the dust inside the cartridge. Lili's referring to Dust Manipulation. The use of dust in things such as weapon coatings, armor coatings, and what's colloquially referred to as 'Dust Magic'."

"Or as Noire likes to puts it," Cu interjected with an amused chuckle, "Dust Magecraft."

"Noire's an international treasure," Kumiho said with a faux-angry glare, before returning her gaze to the Courier. "But yeah. Caleb, get over here so I can unlock your Aura." She pointed to a spot in front of her for emphasis.

"No you see," The Courier said, backing up towards the door until his back came into contact with Lili's outstretched hands to push him forward again. He gave a quick look of betrayal in the hopes she would let him leave and not experience the exceptional agony that he felt when the Headmaster unlocked his aura. He opened his mouth to explain only to be interrupted by Kumiho grabbing his right arm tightly, causing him to grimace in pain as she rubbed through the bandages to the burn scars underneath.

Kumiho humphed, gave the Courier a half confused glance and said, "Take it easy, Caleb. I don't know why you're so nervous, it feels good to have your aura unlocked!"

 _Lies!_

The Courier closed his eyes and grimaced as she began the same ritual that the Headmaster started when he attempted to unlock his aura. He felt his eyebrows raise in confusion when she spoke the lines differently than that of the Headmaster.

 _"It is said, by the crossing of our paths, we transcend mortality.  
In this, we become beacons of hope and compassion, to guide all.  
Endless in distance,  
Our graves stand forever empty.  
I bring forth your soul, and with mine own, guard thee."_

As the warm feeling of the aura coming forth flowed through his body the Courier opened his eyes and flinched in anticipation for the pain that came the last time someone attempted to unlock his aura.

"You're going with that one?" Cu asked in what sounded like disgust. "You're putting 'im at a disadvantage!"

"So he may have to stretch his out," Kumiho retorted defensively. "I'm too tired and exhausted to do it the _standard_ way. I'm too damn tired to- Oh First..."

Opening his eyes, the Courier watched as Kumiho gaped, opening and closing her mouth like one of those electronic singing fish that hung annoyingly on the walls of cheap wasteland bars. She growled and in anger and began opening and closing her mouth repeatedly in an attempt to find words that seemingly eluded her and failed to match up to the sheer fury that the Courier could see painted on her face. Lili just stared at him in what appeared to be utter shock, her eyes looking from his head to his toes before she bit her lower lip. She appeared to be close to crying. Looking down at his hands he realized exactly why they looked concerned.

 _At least it wasn't painful this time._

"That's… that was a thing." Cu said, a slightly curious look plastered on his face, before turning to Caleb. "So, I guess this means our fight's postponed then?"

"I don't think you understand how bad this is! Caleb's aura is broken! We have to get him to therapy! Make sure he doesn't hurt himself!"

"Broken things can be fixed," Cu replied nonchalantly while shrugging. "The best we can do is be there to pick 'im up when he falls down. I can, at the very least, do that right. I'm just surprised none of us noticed anything. You're pretty quiet in your suffering, man."

"He…" Lili started, fidgeting as others looked at her. "He wakes up every night holding his hand over his mouth to mute his own screams."

"Oh," Cu responded, looking to the side in embarrassment. "I just thought that was how he snored. Sorry I didn't notice bud."

"Why aren't you concerned about this?" Kumiho shouted, grabbing the entire team's attention. Her hair fluttered about, messy with strands hanging off, as she began pacing back and forth within the room. "Is fighting him all you really care about? Is that the only reason-?"

Cu shook his head, and spoke up, interrupting the fox-tailed berserker. " _Of course_ I want to fight 'im! He's my bud, _and_ a certified badass. That's two fer one! But I won't show 'im pity. No one deserves pity."

"There's a difference between pity and compassion Cu!" Kumiho shouted, causing the Courier's head to turn to her again. He fidgeted a bit as he watched his teammates argued over his issues, not knowing how to deal with such an argument.

Cu shook his head again. "I never said they were the same, Kumiho, but the way ya' sound, it's as if you're looking down on 'im because of this. As if he's someone to be coddled. _That's_ pity, and he don't need it."

Kumiho spun around and flashed a hate filled glare at the dog-eared spearman. Marching up to him she poked her finger straight into his chest, causing the spearman to blink and look down at the rather diminutive girl. Lili looked on from the background in worry as her two teammates

"If you haven't noticed, things aren't as easy as you think!" She emphasized with another finger point to Cu's ribcage. "Psychological scars don't just up and disappear. They don't sell psych meds over the counter! We can't just go to a pharmacy and say 'Hey, Our friend has a broken aura! Can we get some antidepressants?' He's going to need therapy. And lots of it!"

"Caleb having PTSD doesn't mean he hasn't stopped being Caleb." Cu voiced, his eyes relaxing. He walked over to his partner and put his hand on his shoulder. "He's my partner! That means I got his back, even if he's fighting a psychological disorder."

"Guys," the Courier said, getting an angrily concerned glare from Kumiho. "Can we stop, I can-"

"The least you could have done was tell us about it," Kumiho spoke up, pinching the bridge of her nose. "The fact you're not writhing in absolute agony means it already broke. You kept this a secret from us!"

The Courier opened his mouth and immediately shut it when his partner lightly knocked the back of his head. "Kumiho's on the ball on this one bud. You really shouldn't be keeping secrets." He grinned slightly as he punched the Courier lightly in his shoulder. "Honestly. This is a problem ya' need help on! Ya' can't just fight this on your own!"

"I was hoping to fix the problem on my own," the Courier said. "I don't like putting my burdens on other people."

"I'd normally call that admirable," Kumiho piped in, "But…you're being hypocritical! You don't like putting your burdens on others? You sure like taking others' just fine!"

The Courier fidgeted and responded, "Well, I mean, that's different."

Lili interjected for the second time since the entire interrogation began, and asked, "Because they aren't you? Because you feel weak when someone helps you?"

"Because they actually deserve help," The Courier responded simply, shrugging.

His teammates simply gave him a dry look before nodding at each other. Kumiho turned to face her team leader with the most nonplussed look he's seen since Boone forced himself to tell him about the panty raid he went on before he earned his beret. "So that's why you've been silent."

"And why, Caleb," Cu said looking straight in the Courier's eyes, "do you feel as though you don't exactly deserve compassion?"

The Courier shrugged. "I just don't. I've hurt too many innocent people."

Lili raised her eyebrow and spoke, in a stern voice for once. "Does hurting these innocents have anything to do with your self-hatred? Or the nightmares?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," the Courier replied.

Cu shook his head and looked at his partner dead in the eyes. Placing both of his hands on his shoulders, the spearman spoke, "Look bud, you can tell us what's eating you. We won't judge."

The Courier looked down, his brows furrowing. The room became silent, the sounds of students waking up and walking down the hall towards the stairs. Laughter came in through the underside of the door, creating an awkward clash with the somber atmosphere of the dark grey room. Biting his lip, the Courier tasted his own blood, its thin taste matching up to his slightly low amount of it. He looked towards the curtains of the room, studying the swirling textures for about half a minute.

"I… don't… I really don't want to talk about it in detail," the Courier said. "But… I made a mistake, and people died because of it. The land where it happen is filled with nothing but death, decay and monsters, and it is all my fault."

Cu wrapped his arm around his friend and asked, in a surprisingly gentle voice, "That's what your nightmares are about aren't they?"

The Courier simply responded by nodding his head, his eyes half lidded. He sighed and took a step towards the door, taking his partner's arm off of his neck. Opening the door he found himself blinking as he stared at Roy, who gave him a smile and a look filled with empathy. The wastelander slid past him and into the hallway. "I'm going for a walk… I'll… uh… I'll see you all later…"

* * *

Chet Whitehorse lit up another cigarette as he leaned against the darkened beige concrete walls of Central Vacuo Police Station. Two of the buttons at the top of his white shirt had been undone and he felt the cool desert breeze blow on his face and upper chest, drying the barrier of sweat that formed over past twenty hours. He grimaced as he inhaled the bitter smoke from the burning tobacco, sighing it back out while adopting an absolutely tired facial expression, complete with his eyes squinting in absolute exhaustion.

After several officers responded to calls made regarding the sounds of gunshots coming from a small abandoned area just a few hundred meters from the edge of the plateau, the untamed narrows of the city on the border of the Avarus Rex, they discovered a building filled with the stench of human sin, so thick it could be cut with a knife. Exploring the building after calling in backup, the two officers came across rooms locked from the outside while the sounds of banging came from within, as well as quiet rooms where no sounds came out. When the backup arrived they had finally made their way upstairs to find themselves staring at an odd display of a large number of bodies, half of which lay in pools of blood, while the other half made faint breathing sounds from their broken down and unconscious forms.

The discovery of exactly eleven of the nearly three hundred faunus who disappeared over the course of the previous month lying naked in various unlocked rooms resulted in the deployment of the local Special Weapons and Tactics team. Detective Whitehorse woke up at two in the dark of the morning to the chief of police calling to request his presence at a crime scene. After a twenty minute drive, the tired detective came across the barricaded off crime scene filled with heavily armed SWAT officers and half a dozen fresh recruits from the academy upchucking in an alleyway.

After interrogating several of the uncooperative faunus traffickers, the detective had turned to gently questioning the dozens of victims that had been locked in various rooms on each hallway. When they finally deigned to inform the black clothed detective about the exact nature of the previous night, he finally rediscovered the notion of surprise.

Instead of the victims being locked into such rooms for the purpose of a later transaction-though over half had been left in the rooms they had suffered in-instead they found themselves locked inside to prevent further harm to their persons. A group consisting of two huntsman and one member of the terrorist organization known as the White Fang came to the building, knocked out-or in the case of the Fang member, knocked out and subsequently stabbed half a dozen times-every member of the faunus trafficking ring inside the building, including a rogue huntsman with a ten-thousand lien bounty on his head. The two huntsman had gone through the entire bottom floor without raising any alarm, indicating that one or both might have infiltration training. After dealing with the rogue huntsman, the two huntsmen then fled, dragging the presumably wounded Fang member with them.

Whitehorse blew out a long puff of smoke from his mouth and dropped his cigarette, crushing out the flames underneath his boot. The rogue huntsman hadn't so much as spoken a single word in response to any of their inquiries, and he began to feel the toll of the night burning in his skull. His head reeled from the sounds of the high number of cars honking and speeding past the street in front of him, each driven and occupied by people with no knowledge of the absolute human filth the police added into the holding cells deep within the station early in the morning. He sighed as he walked into the brightly lit station, his break nearly over. Greeting the receptionist, the detective made his way through the station, heading directly towards the break room to grab yet another cup of coffee to get him through the next few hours of fruitless interrogations.

Standing in front of the dust damned device he poured out some of the coffee still left in the pot into a small foam cup, and began sipping only to spill a few drops when he felt the tip of someone's finger tapping on his shoulder. Turning around he grimaced at the sight of the man before him. The man wore a pair of long brown slacks, a white undershirt tucked into it, and an unbuttoned leather jacket, held in place by several belts with holsters for multiple vials of various powdered dust. The man had a metal shoulder-pad on his left side, further pushing away any notion of symmetry the ensemble of myriad clothes at one point could boast. A beige wool cap covering the man's dirty-blonde hair just finished off the image that the man had the fashion sense of a typical huntsman. He stared at the longsword sheathed on the man's back, guessing the huntsman either understood little of the actual workings of unsheathing a weapon, or, more likely, rightly didn't expect a fight at a police station.

The detective sighed before opening his mouth only to be interrupted by the huntsman. "It's a mechanical sheath actually, opens up from the top so the weapon can be drawn."

"Oh," Whitehorse replied, uninterested. Huntsmen and their special-snowflake weaponry didn't rightly sit with the detective, as he'd rather trust his life to the simpler weapons the government hands over to them to use in their rather thankless daily task of keeping the population of criminals away from the lawful people of Vacuo. At least the huntsman in front of him just had some normal longsword, in spite of the mechanical scabbard. Though for all the detective knew, it could be one of those mecha-shift weapons or, worse, one of those dust-conduits. The fact his children often argued incessantly over the best weapon type was definitely not responsible for his disdain of such weaponry. Not at all.

"Yeah, well, I could tell you all about how it works if you want," the huntsman spoke up, his North-Atlesian accent giving away his origin. "Or you could let me interrogate one Mr. Clay."

Whitehorse felt his right eye twitch, and he held back a steam of insults from pouring out at the huntsman in front of him. "And why should I let you do that?"

"Names Drake Willow," the huntsman said, holding his hand out for a good fifteen seconds as the detective just stared at him blankly before retracting it. "As you can tell, I'm a huntsman."

"Not one of ours, though," the detective responded as he felt his face distort in slight unease. "Why are you here?"

Willow sighed and responded, "Look, I can do things your department, including your huntsman and huntresses, can't, if you catch my drift."

The detective closed his eyes. "As much as seeing such scum get what's coming to them, I'm gonna have to decline you're offer Willow. You know well we don't torture for information."

"Well, sorry but" the huntsman said, adopting a smug smile full of nothing but teeth. "Your boss hired me for just such a task! Check your scroll."

The huntsman watched with a self-satisfied grin as the detective pulled out an old scroll model and tapped a few buttons on the side, before swiping around for a bit and scowling. The chief never hired huntsman or huntresses for jobs like this unless he felt crossing such a line to be both absolutely necessary, and the individual interrogated to be of such a wretched stock that even the most compassionate souls would shed few tears over such actions. Thus the detective gave a grudging sigh as soon as he finished reading the message sent from his scroll detailing the recent hire. He rolled his eyes as the huntsman in front of him gave him a victorious smirk and arm cross.

Rubbing his tired eyes, Whitehorse groaned and said, "Alright fine, do it. But at least try just scaring him into giving information. You should very well know what you're planning isn't a good source of information."

The hunter nodded, "Yeah, yeah, they say whatever will stop the pain, even if it's a lie. I get this. Completely understood detective! But... just on the safe side, I'm gonna have to disable the camera in the room. Can't have you guys suffer negative attention like that, eh?"

The detective grumbled as he led the huntsman to the interrogation room, knocking several times on the door, to let the current officer trying fruitlessly to get the rogue huntsman to speak up about the rest of the operation to come out. The detective gave off a surprised expression when he noticed a red-haired huntress walking out.

"Oh hey Chet!" she said, trying to smile. "How're the kids?"

"Fine, Rachael. Continuing to argue on whether or not mecha-shifts beat dust-conduits as weapons," he responded without a beat. The hired huntsman looked back and forth and opened his mouth only to close it when the huntress spoke up again.

"Did you tell them I said I simple weapons were better, since their single state lowers the amount of moving parts?" she said smiling.

"Didn't believe me, in fact-"

"Can we get down to business," Willow spoke up, "I have a man to intimidate into giving up information, thanks."

Rolling her eyes, Rachael gave the man a glare. "You must be Willow then. I'd be lying if I said it was a pleasure."

"Aw come on!" he said in a flirty tone. "We're both huntsma-huntress-hunts-people here. Why give me such treatment?"

Breathing in and holding her breath for a few seconds, Rachael exhaled, and leveled a glare at the huntsman. "If being a rather dickish man who gives off an 'I'm superior to everyone else' vibe isn't enough, I can tell Chet isn't really a fan of you." She gave off a shrug, while loosening her expression. "I figure if he doesn't trust you, there's probably a good reason for me to not give you the time of day let alone my trust."

The huntsman tsked, and shrugged before walking into the room. "Got it, can you two at least watch to make sure the guy doesn't try and overpower me to escape?"

"Maybe you should leave your weapon with us," Rachael replied, a rather disgusted grin on her face.

"Not. A. Chance." He replied darkly, causing the two to blink in response as he closed the door, preventing them from hearing anything going on in the room.

* * *

The huntsman approached the corner of the room with the camera, carefully removing the wires allowing it to broadcast the happenings of the room. After unhooking several more wires, some of which required the removal of one of the plates on the back of the camera itself, the huntsman placed a small cloth over the lens of the camera. Walking over towards the table, the huntsman ducked under the table and paused the recorder that had been placed under the edge of one side of the table. After having ensured the privacy of the room and that it remained unobserved the huntsman turned to the rogue, who gave him a rather surprised expression.

"Y-"

"That's _Mr. Willow_ to, _Mr. Clay_ " the huntsman said strongly. "And you're going to tell me exactly what happened at the compound. As well as the locations of any other bases for your organization. Otherwise," the huntsman smiled darkly, "something horrible might happen to you."

Clay smiled sarcastically, "Oh, you should know this, _Willow_ , but our organization actually has an amazing security system. If one of our bases goes dark, the pack all the merchandise and move to various selected locations around the city. Locations that you and your pig buddies couldn't find without some form of map. Even I couldn't tell you where they were. Only the boss knows where the secondary locations are."

"Well damn," the huntsman said, with faux-distraught in his voice, "And here I thought I'd have to beat the information out of you. Then again, you might be lying, so maybe I should rough you up anyway, see if you don't talk then."

Clay looked around nervously and made a few words with his mouth before sighing. Looking down at the silver table, Willow got another good look at the huntsman, his black spiked up hair looking slightly caked in blood from the rogue's... odd hobbies. "I'll talk man! I'll-I'll talk!"

"So tell me then Clay... what happened? From start to finish."

Clay growled and looked to the side. "That damn animal, Griss Cielo. We captured him trying to acquire our merchandise. He-"

"I see now" Willow responded, a disgusted grimace on his face. "The details I got make sense now. Some huntsmen came in under the cover of darkness and freed him yeah?"

"That's right," Clay said, looking at Willow with brows furrowed and his lips in a snarl. "One animal and man in strange armor. Couldn't even tell if he was a freak or not. They snuck through the downstairs area and knocked out all my men. Meanwhile the goat bastard killed the guards upstairs and started slaughtering us." Clay smiled sadistically. "Until he came across me."

"Judging by the… trophies," Willow said as his eyes narrowed and a scowl appeared on his face, "You were testing your _merchandise_ weren't you? Never mind, don't answer. Tell me about the huntress first."

"The fox bitch was strong," Clay said shaking his head. "Tore through concrete with her ax without so much as slowing. She engaged in combat after I attempted to off her partner. I think she took the stupid goat somewhere else, 'cause I didn't see him anywhere behind her. I tried cutting at her neck, but she simply ducked under the blade, the short little... AGH! She... she disarmed me too quickly! Managed to parry that blow with that freak strength of hers. She's definitely a huntress. My blade embedded in the ceiling, she had me defenseless. Then she shot me with the shotgun barrels on her battle-axe. Dust that stung so bad! I got knocked back into a wall so hard my aura nearly reached the threshold. Next thing I know she fires again-I didn't even think shotgun shells were accurate at that distance-and I'm waking up in one of those police vans heading for this dust damned place."

Willow shook his head with a curious expression as he wrote furiously in a small notebook. Looking up, he watched as Clay stared at him before continuing. "Alright, so... what about the other one?"

"The other one... You know... I- I don't think he was actually a huntsman. Too efficient."

Willow paused and looked up at the man, giving him a gesture to continue. "Too efficient? Huntsman are pretty efficient."

Clay shook his head in the negative. He looked straight ahead in abstract fear. "Not that efficient. Almost everything he did screamed efficiency. I think he was Spec-Ops." Clay shook his head, and took on a rage filled expression, his mouth furling and his eyebrows tilted. "He used one of my men as a shield when the idiot got within range of him. Took out five men with headshots-headshots! With a revolver! Well… one was in the neck, but still. That isn't all! He had some sort of laser weapon that... it... it didn't act like a dust-conduit at all! It looked like some kid's idea of a _science-gun_ or something, but it actually worked! He didn't have the girl's strength though, so he focused on dodging my strikes first and foremost. He also bled whenever I cut him."

"So his aura wasn't unlocked then?" Willow asked, a curious expression plastered on his face.

"No. He was bleeding after I shot one of my explosives at him," Clay said shaking his head.

Willow nodded, "That's good info. Can you tell me what they looked like?"

"A midget fox faunus in a slutty orange dress and a short douche in dry-shit colored ballistic armor and a duster," Clay said shrugging. Willow glared at the Rogue huntsman. "That's all I got! Look: the girl wore some huntress outfit with a bandana and sunglasses, so all I can tell is she's a damn fox. A very short one at that! The guy? He had a freaking gas mask over his face, connected with his brown as dog-shit helmet. They hid their faces. All I can tell you is the girl's a damn midget and the ghost's short! That's it! That's all I can tell you."

Silence reigned for a good minute before Willow stood up, a smile on his face as he pocketed the notepad. And walked towards the corner, and reattached the myriad wires to the device. Sighing to himself he walked to the door, briefly looking back at the rogue huntsman who stared at him with an expression of pure confusion.

"Thank you very much," he said smiling, "You've been very informative."

The huntsman stepped out into the hallway to stare at the detective and huntress chatting away over some random family business, the tall redhead smiling gently down at the graying detective. The huntsman smiled as he walked up to them.

"So Willow," The redhead asked, giving the strange hunter a rather dismissive glare, as if she stared straight through him. "Anything? Or was he being silent throughout your... techniques."

"Oh I didn't hurt him red," he said, inwardly smiling as her scowl deepened. "But uh, no. He told me that they're shifting around their locations, and that no one but their head honcho knows the new locations."

"Son of a bi-" the detective started.

"Did he say anything else?" Rachael interrupted. "About the huntsman and huntress duo? The Fang Member?"

"He said the fang member's name was Griss Cielo. But good luck finding him. The man's goat horns were cut off."

"He's a goat faunus?" The Detective asked, his eyes widening. "I guess that's what those disks the victims kept mentioning were." He shook his head. "Anything else? Did he mention the huntsman and huntress duo?"

"Nope," the huntsman said, shaking his head sadly. He frowned as he watched the two looked down in concern. "Whelp... unless you have any more questions, I'm going to head home for now. My job is done."

"Job is," Rachael began quietly looking at the man confused. "No it's not done! We all have work to do! You were paid to-"

"I," the huntsman began, "was paid to get information out of him. I got all I could, but if you need me again, your chief has my number." The huntsman smiled slyly and winked "Wait, is this an excuse to get closer to me? Well, I might just stay then."

"I'm married asshole!" Rachael yelled, disgusted. "Just get out of here you lazy prick."

The huntsman simply shrugged and waved as he exited the building. He walked out confidently, yawning all the while, and angering several other police officers and another PD Huntsman. He continued walking as his face contorted into an angry grimace and disappeared into a thinning crowd. He continued walking as he looked up at the broken moon through the silhouette of the myriad rooftops and sun tarps that people strung high above the street, sighing deeply.

He continued waking as he removed his jacket and cap, temporarily placing his beloved sword, ever in its mechanical scabbard on the ground, and tossed them into a wire-mesh trashcan when he noticed himself alone. He continued walking as he placed the scabbard on his back once more as he turned the corner, throwing his scroll into the road to be run over by a passing truck.

He continued walking as police sirens filled the night, responding to the call about the hours-old huntsman's corpse lying in the middle of a dark alleyway.

* * *

 **AN: Did you honestly think there wouldn't be a villain?**

 **Name: ?**

 **Age: ?**

 **Semblance: ?**

 **Before someone asks, the numbers Lili mentioned have something to do with her semblance. I'll likely drop more hints over the next couple of chapters. Also, you should expect to see Cu live up to his namesake very soon.**


	10. The Darkness that Covers the Light

**AN: Sorry this took as long as it did. I really don't have an excuse.**

 **In response to the guest review proclaiming a desire for a Tv-Tropes page, while I'm extremely honored you consider my story good (or awful) enough to get a Tv-Tropes, I'd prefer earning a spot on the Tv-Tropes Fanfic Recs Page before any of that. That's the goal I'm aiming for right now.**

* * *

 _The Courier pulled the knife out of the legionnaire's throat in a quick motion, causing the blood coursing throughout his body to spray out violently for a second, covering his helmet in the crimson fluid as the man fell to the ground. The legionnaire writhed in pain, vainly attempting to stop the flowing of blood before drifting into the unconsciousness that came before death. Stepping forward, the Courier wiped the red slush off of his visor, never looking away from the man who stood at the top of the hill. He felt the eyes of a dozen slaves following him as he stepped further up towards the fur-armored man, whose face contorted in rage. Behind him lay the corpses, and soon-to-be corpses, of the many men that stood in his way as he made his way towards their leader._

 _"Dammit all-kill him!" Caesar growled, the Praetorian guards around him charging forward towards the man who dared wear the armor of their ancient foe. "I want him on a cross!"_

 _The blood soaked man simply steeped back as he pulled his gauss rifle from its holster on his back. Blinking once at the last of the Praetorians stepped past the two meter radius of the teenage slave girl hiding behind one of the sheet metal walls that made up the Legion's main, he brought up the rifle, so that it was aimed directly at the head of the lead praetorian, and fired. Green explosions rocked the hill to the east of the scrap-walled arena sitting under Caesar's main tent, causing the slaves to back up in fear. The Courier stepped forward only to be launched backwards by the still very alive praetorian commander, the smoking plasma burns covering his face emphasizing his fury._

 _After landing on his back, the Courier opened his eyes and watched as the commander screamed, jumping into the air with the zeal of a man with nothing to lose, aiming his right arm, the ballistic fist clear as the smell of blood around him, the shotgun shells creating a cloud of dust as they hit the ground. Pushing off to the right the Courier dodged the man's brutal haymaker, dropping his rifle in the process, and threw himself upwards with the momentum. Slipping his right hand into his duster's inner pocket, he felt the wire grip of the strings connecting the dog tags of the homemade knuckle dusters he found in Cottonwood Cove. Gripping the small bar holding the dog tags in place hard enough that he felt bruises forming on his palm, the Courier hunched forward, stepping with his left foot and fist forward while keeping his right arm closer to the side of his head._

 _Blinking once, the Courier watched as the man stood back up and faced him, his eyes wide and burning with absolute fury. The praetorian entered a semi-crouching boxing position and began circling around the courier just within a meter and a half. The two began circling each other their fists never raised anywhere but each other, and never stepping towards or away from each other. The last praetorian in the legion continued to glare and growl hatefully, while the Courier, the names of fallen soldiers in his right fist watched through the green lenses of his helmet with quiet fury._

 _The praetorian charged._

"So," Cu spoke up, interrupting the Courier's memory. Looking over towards his friend, the Courier watched as he fiddled around with what he called Recompense of the Fallen. "Ya' just found this in some random buildin'?"

 **Chapter 10: The Darkness that Covers the Light**

"Yeah," the Courier replied as he watched the sky dim further, the bright blue sky turning shades of dim amber and purple as the sun fell below the sandy horizon. He sighed as his gaze turned to the myriad streets below, wincing and shuddering at the height of the apartment building they stood upon. Countless people and vehicles passed the sand colored building they stood upon, moving about like the pictures of pre-war ants he saw once. The calamity of yelling, horns and engines sounded muffled from the top of the concrete structure, allowing the two to converse as they watched the sun dip below the horizon.

"Who makes brass knuckles out of Dog-tags?" Cu spoke up as he threw the knuckle-dusters back to the Courier, who caught them before they collided with his face. He pocketed them inside the brown duster covering his armor, brushing off some sand from inside one of the armor's crevices. "Morbid, don't ya' think? I mean, they buried them right? They didn't jus'... ya' know... throw 'em in a ditch, did they?"

The Courier shook his head, "Dunno. The building was under the control of a rather... infamous group from where I'm from. The tags belonged to some military group opposing them." He shook his head at his technical truth.

"Oh," Cu said, his ears perking up. "What's this group called?"

"Caesar's Legion," the Courier said, grimacing at its sound.

" _See-zar_? I always thought it was _kai-zar_ ," Cu said, a confused expression plastered on his face. The Courier simply chuckled to himself, to the young faunus's confusion.

"Sorry, but I didn't respect him enough to get his name right," the Courier said with a chuckle.

"By the First," Cu said, laughing, looking at the Courier with his lightish gray eyes, the exact color still eluding the young wastelander. "What could they have done to earn _your_ disrespect of all things? I didn't think you were the type."

The Courier frowned and looked past his partner, and replied, "Much the same as the men we're hunting tonight. You'll probably get a good idea of their practices tonight."

Cu grimaced and lied down on the roof of the building. "Geez. I thought that crap only happened in the land of pagodas and criminals."

"Where?" the Courier asked in confusion.

"You know? Mistral?" Cu said looking at the Courier. Getting a nod in return, he continued. "Mistral's the land of pagodas and criminals, just like Atlas is the land of high tech and arseholes."

"If you don't mind me asking, why criminals?" He replied, taking his eyes off the Streets for a moment to look at his friend.

Cu hummed in contemplation. "Hmm. Forgot that wasn't somethin' they teach in history class. Mistral's home to Remnant's largest black market. Illegal dust mixtures, stolen weapons, drugs, the kind of stuff only criminals and other dregs like to buy." He chuckled once, looking back up to the sky before continuing. "Always found it funny though. When I was a lad, I always thought it was strange that it happened in Mistral. I always wondered 'Why not Vacuo? They practically got no government?' Then I guess I realized there weren't reason for there to be one."

"Because of the prevalent nomadic lifestyle right?"

Cu humphed and sat up. "Yup, that's it right there. If you want to know more, you should ask Lili about it. Her family's been travelin' the desert for... three generations was what she said, I think?"

"I know," the Courier said bluntly, "I heard her argument with David."

Cu blanched, frowning in slight fear, "I never want to see Lili like that again. Come to think of it," he paused, scrutinizing the Courier. "You're only slightly more talkative than she is. Wonder what you'd sound like if you got angry."

The Courier looked at his partner for a minute before shrugging. Cu smiled to himself before laying back onto the top of the sand colored roof, staring at the darkening sky. He sighed and blinked staring at the broken moon that hung over the desert city. Shrugging, the Courier shrugged and went back to looking over the various people moving to and fro through the city, hoping to spot something out of the ordinary.

"Speaking of being mad, what was that homeless girl's deal? More importantly- and this is somethin' I've been meaning to ask for the past two hours-why in the myriad number of the First's triumphs did ya' buy her _steaks_?"

The Courier blinked a few timed and turned to his friend, who stared at him with half a grin on his face. The Courier opened his mouth and subsequently closed it, groaning loudly and shaking his head. Turning back towards the street, he finally took a seat right on the edge, crossing his legs as he watched the streetlights announce the arrival of the night to the city. He maintained the vigil as the sunlight faded, the moon turning the beige roof into a silver one, dozens of shadows forming under its bright light.

"Huh. More stars out here than in Atlas," Cu whispered.

 _The burly man turned around, his face hidden in a haze. "Huh. More stars out here than Vault City. Thanks for helping make Hopeville possible, Caleb."_

"Ye-Yeah," the Courier said, shaking his head to rid himself of a memory. "Anyway, spot anyone?"

"...No," Cu said with a sad grimace as he finished looking over the edge of the opposite corner. "Boss, I... look, I get the plan-I respect it even! It's brilliant! But...I...it's... I..."

The Courier sighed. "You think it's wrong? Well, I _know_ it's wrong. But..." A moment of silence filled the air between the two. He heard Cu hum in affirmation, a sad growl that told him everything. "I'm sorry...Please, let me know if you see anyone we can trail..."

Cu spoke up after a long minute of silence. "I said it before, I'm with ya'. We'll just hit 'em fast so they can't do nothin' to those lasses!" He turned and gave a cocky grin to the Courier, showing off the sharp canines that overlapped the others.

The Courier smiled under his helmet and nodded, returning his gaze towards the streets. He watched as a young, red-haired woman stepped out from the building in front of them. She looked around nervously, the brahmin-or cows, since the cattle of Remnant only had one head-ears flopping about. The Courier watched as she walked down the fresh sidewalk to the east half of the city. She looked about nervously and hunched over as she walked, keeping below the chest level of most of the other people walking to and fro amongst the desert city.

The Courier's smile disappeared.

"Found one," he said, "We need to move." Hearing his partner grunt in affirmation, the Courier ran and hopped over the opposing edge and into an alleyway. He felt the rush of wind pass him for a second before he landed back first on the large shadowy tarp that hung between the buildings. The sounds of ripping filled the Courier's ears, nearly muffled by the cacophony of the various cars and pedestrians moving about in the roads to the front of the building, and the Courier grasped the thick fabric as it split. Grunting as he hit the wall, he climbed down the makeshift rope before letting go, rolling as he hit the dirty alley pavement. Looking in front of him, he watched as his partner grabbed a window ledge mid-fall, slamming into the wall feet first. The Courier grabbed his thick duffel bag and hoisted onto his back, and made his way into the maze of dark alleyways, his partner trailing behind him.

* * *

She watched through her scope as the woman went into the apartment complex, briefly stroking the scaled cheek of a small reptilian faunus boy as he eagerly began to open and close his mouth in quick succession. The woman gently closed the door, and Lili heard the automatic lock click from across the street. Smiling, she hoisted the heavy rifle onto her back, grunting as she felt the strap briefly constrict against her sternum before walking over to the edge of the building. Hopping over she climbed down the numerous landings of the fire escape before stepping into the dingy, refuse filled alley next to the apartment building. Looking behind her, she came to face with Kumiho, who gave her an odd, surprisingly apologetic grin.

Shrugging their shoulders in almost unison, the two girls walked deeper into the labyrinth of alleyways, stepping over the odd potted plant or garbage bag. The alleyways smelled like they typical downtown dumpster, of trash, animal refuse, and human fluids. After nodding to the same passed out man they encountered half an hour beforehand, the jug of what smelled like home-brewed palm wine still in his hands, the two groaned as they came across the chain link fence that blocked another alley, perpendicular to the one they stood in. Crawling beneath the large hole in the bottom the two girls continued forward, entering onto the sparsely populated street that stretched in the distance to their left and right.

Lili watched as Kumiho took out her scroll, tapping away for a few minutes before pocketing the device into her leather jacket's inner pocket. She sighed and attempted to keep her eyes open. Blinking a few times, Lili's eyes shot open as she nearly stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk, before quietly groaning. The occasional dropped bottle and honking car broke the silence of the city night, keeping the two awake as they passed by the dingy apartments of the narrows known as the _outer edge_. Kumiho hummed sadly as she looked at the broken glass and abandoned beige buildings.

 _It took fifteen years to build up this city_ Lili thought sadly, _and parts are already abandoned. I guess we really are like the other nations now..._

Lili's thoughts halted as she felt her self being gently pulled to the edge of an alleyway, looking to her side, she found her partner making a shushing motion with her index finger. Blinking, she followed Kumiho's lead and looked out from the alley. She watched as a black van stopping next to some poor businesswoman. The woman stared at the van for a moment before turning around, walking back towards the two girls, just as the driver stepped out of the car with a wet looking rag in his right hand.

Kumiho grimaced and sighed. "She'd have been taken anyway...Okay... Okay! This is our best opportunity to plant the Scroll. Lili, Let 'em know we found the bastards. Going in."

Lili's eyes widened, and she began to speak. "Wa-wai- oh... oh no..." Lili grimaced as she watched her partner sneak towards the van, leaving her weapon behind. Pulling out her rifle, she watched through the scope as Kumiho hid behind a wall as the man walked into the back of the van, pulling in the unconscious woman after him. Sneaking closer Kumiho crouched low behind a dumpster in an alley just a few meters from the van. The man closed the doors loudly and Kumiho made her move, crouching and moving out of sight of the tinted van's rear view mirror. As the man opened the door she rolled forward, pushing her spine against the van's rear doors and pulling out her scroll. As the engine started and the car purred like a cat she quickly went prone grabbing something under the van and crawling underneath it placing her scroll between her teeth. Her feet disappeared just as the van began rolling forward.

"Oh geez..." Lili moaned quietly as she pulled out her scroll, furiously tapping against the holographic keyboard.

* * *

"Yes, that is exactly the reason we were following ya'." Cu said rubbing the back of his head, grimacing at the lie he just spouted. The Courier palmed the front of his helmet, clenching his teeth at the situation. The young woman blinked a few times before narrowing her eyes skeptically, pursing her lips. Cu sighed and made a placating gesture. "Look, we even have student ID's to prove it."

"No... No it's fine," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Just...let a girl know beforehand. I was just terrified that you were going to kidnap me off the street." She rubbed her forehead with her thumb and index finger, sighing at the sight of the two huntsman before her. "But thanks, I guess. At least you guys are _trying_ to help, unlike my coworkers. 'It's fine Cathy! You won't be kidnapped Cathy! You're not in Mistral, Cathy!' Ugh. And you know what? All they ever do is complain. It's always-"

The Courier looked to the side, smiling in discomfort as he focused on something besides the woman in front of him. Cu kept nodding his head while occasionally stealing surreptitious glances at the... reasons the woman kept herself hunched over as she walked. The Courier fidgeted as the woman continued to talk about her day, giving his partner a rather disbelieving glance when he told her to continue. His body shuddered in surprise as his scroll buzzed, and he spun his head trying to find someone out of reflex. Pulling out the scroll he took a look at the screen, grunting as he read Lili's message.

"Excuse me" the Courier spoke up, interrupting the woman mid-sentence. "Sorry, but we need to leave. Our friend's in trouble."

The woman blinked in confusion at the statement before taking on a shocked expression. He nodded his head at her before gesturing for Cu to follow him. Cu's eyes widened and he bowed to the woman before following close behind. The two ran down the sidewalk, avoiding the alleyways as the Courier attempted to find the quickest path towards Kumiho's Scroll. Looking at his Pip-Boy he watched as the device tracked her scroll, through his own one's rudimentary proximity system, displaying her as a small dot traveling at a decent speed from road to road towards a point somewhere on the west end of town. Putting the devices away, he lost focus as the two made their way towards the edge of the city, making it to the sidewalk near the edge of the Plateau after about a quarter hour of running.

Caleb breathed in and out, desperately catching his breath as his heart buzzed in his chest at a pitch higher than normal. He stared over the waist high wall that separated the sidewalk from a dozen meters of rock and dirt leading to a sudden drop, grimacing at the sheer height the two stood. Sitting against the wall he took another look at his Pip-Boy before turning towards an alleyway towards his left. He nodded and made a gesture, and he watched as Lili walked out onto the sidewalk. She looked to each end of the street before running across, her rifle and white hoodie bouncing with each step. He turned to face Cu, who had decided to plop down next to him.

Lili joined the two and looked at them both with a worried expression. "S-so... um... you... got my message?"

The Courier nodded his head as his breath slowed, the buzzing in his chest decreasing as he pushed himself up. His held his Pip-Boy out for the others to see, and the two craned their necks towards the device to get a better look. Against the backdrop of an orange tinted map of the city a small triangle blinked once every couple of seconds, before moving slowly into the outlines of a building. Gesturing his head the three dashed across the street and into the alleyways of the city. It took them a good five minutes of running in the shadows before they came within the thirty meters of Kumiho's scroll. Warehouses of varying sizes surrounded them, giving the Courier an idea of the inside environment.

 _Large amounts of cover and tight corridors, so mid-to-short range firearms have an advantage, but not for sniper rifles. It's even better for melee fighters using shorter weapons due to the somewhat tight corridors preventing the usage of larger weapons, but with poor conditions for weapons such as Kumiho's as that ax's likely to get caught against the various pallets and shelves. They have the advantage of knowing the area well, while we'll need to deal with any traps they might have set up. Then there are their victims. Push comes to shove, they might use their... merchandise as shields. We might end up losing some of them._

"Alright, from now until the slavers are taken care of," the Courier whispered, his teammates being the only two to hear his words. "Keep quiet."

The Courier pointed upwards with his left index finger, handing Lili his Silenced COS rifle, Boone, and a spare magazine. Shrugging she grabbed both, throwing the weapons strap over her left shoulder before climbing up a ladder on the sides of one of the nearby warehouses. Motioning for Cu to follow him, the two rounded the corner and snuck down the space between the warehouses, moving slowly towards the edge of the alleyway, ducking behind several trashcans as a man, hiding a pistol under his leather jacket, passed them by. Making it to the end the Courier kept low, taking a quick glance out into the wide street before them before ducking his head back in.

A single man, cigarette in hand, leaned against the sheet metal doors of the entrance, a large rifle leaning next to him. The warehouse itself had a dilapidated sign reading words "Black Taurus Shipping Corporation" hanging unlit above the garage doors, with a picture of a bull and a black cat ripped nearly in half, separating the two. All along the road outside several men patrolled up and down the road, and around the building. Grimacing the Courier looked directly across the street as one of the guards reached down and pulled his gun out only to collapse, a small metal ball hitting the ground beside him.

The Courier nodded and tapped Cu's shoulder, pointing towards the various streetlamps. He made a small box with his thumbs and index fingers before making a quick stabbing motion. Cu nodded and bend down with his hands on the ground, before inhaling deeply. Jumping faster than the Courier could follow, he hit the wall in front of him with his right leg before pushing himself towards a higher point on the opposite wall. He proceeded to reach the roof after a good two seconds of kicking himself from wall to wall, his form disappearing into the cold desert night.

The Courier waited for a good minute before seeing Cu's shadow jump across the gap between the warehouses, before grabbing the ledge of the opposite side and pulling himself up once again. Clenching his eyes shut, he took another look towards their target, sighing in relief that none of the guards noticed his partner. As he pulled his head inside the alley once again, the lights dimmed before going out, blanketing the entire street, and likely the whole block, in a thick darkness. Soon the only the moon lit the street in front of them, and the Courier exited the alleyway, clicking the switch on the side of his helmet.

A gush of wind behind him notified him of Cu's return. Giving his partner a nod, the Courier pointed to the group of five men that filed into the street, before taking position just behind the corner of their target. His partner hit the wall just to his left, muffling his breath with his left palm. The sound of a group of shotgun's going off broke the silence, and Cu gave the Courier a wide eyed look. The sounds of a firefight came from inside the warehouse, as brief flashes appeared through the thin windows meters above them. The Courier shook his head and crouched near the corner the alleyway, pulling out Randall Clark's old service rifle. Leaning out he shot the rightmost man in the temple, causing him to collapse from his aura running out. The others panicked and he took down the next closest man by firing five rounds into his chest. He pointed to the roof of the building with his right hand as he ducked back into the alley, dodging the grunt's returning fire. Cu disappeared, once again hopping from wall to wall and onto the building. The Courier leaned out, and fired a round into one of the goon's head, causing him to collapse to the ground.

Two slavers landed out into the middle of the road, harshly slamming into the hardened tar. The Courier fired the last three rounds into the closest one's chest, before pulling out A Light Shining in Darkness. He emptied the clip into the second man, as Lili knocked out the first with a shot to the chest. The two fell to the ground in a tired slump, their auras giving out. Holstering his pistol and rifle, the Courier ran towards the Garage door, pushing it open as Cu appeared to his immediate left. The Courier hit the wall next to him as buckshot from six shotgun barrels being fired simultaneously made mincemeat of the air where he previously stood.

"Whoa! Miho, it's us!" Cu shouted as the Courier's heart began to whirr down. He gave Cu a dry look for speaking Kumiho's nickname, before turning his attention to the clanging sound from the garage. Her battleax just hit the ground as he saw his wide eyed teammate scan him from head to toe repeatedly in an attempt to ascertain how much she might have hurt him. She turned towards Cu as he coughed into his hand. "Don't worry, his back was to the wall before ya' fired. He's alright!" Cu finished, giving Kumiho a confident grin before giving a worried look to the Courier as she turned towards him again.

"I'm fine. Aura's still at its maximum." The Courier said, knowing full well their stealth broke. Kumiho responded with a sarcastic grin, before he continued. "You okay?"

She frowned slightly, a look of resignation on her face. "I can handle a few guards."

The Courier blinked, registering her comment. "I was referring to being dragged halfway across the city under a three-ton van."

Kumiho nodded her head in understanding. "Ah... My Aura's still pretty high. Only took a couple of hits." The Courier nodded, his relieved smile hidden under his helmet, before quietly motioning for them to follow him. "Oh," Kumiho spoke up. "I got them all. There wasn't a rogue huntsman this time."

The Courier smiled in pride. "Good j-"

"Dammit!" Cu yelled, a frown etched on his face. "Can I get one fe-"

"Lancer," The Courier said, causing his friend to look up surprised. "It's no time to relax. We need to make sure that none of them escaped-more importantly _might_ escape-with any of the girls. Can you go in and lock up the slavers on one side of the hall. I'll be with you in a moment."

Cu smiled, foisting his spear over the back of his neck. "I thought ya' were gonna use 'spear' to refer ta' me!"

The Courier shrugged before replying. "You were the one who said 'Lancer sounds cooler, though!'" He smiled under his helmet and closed his eyes. "Still. It isn't as cool as 'Courier'."

Cu knocked the Courier's armor with the back of his hand as he stepped into the building, twirling his spear around him rapidly in an attempt to show off, before disappear. Kumiho raised an eyebrow. "Ca-Courier." She corrected herself. "You feeling alright?"

"Not really, no," The Courier said, narrowing his eyes as he looking up and down the street. "Nothing's ever this easy." He sighed. "Sorry. Maybe I'm just being paranoid. Anyway, I just think it'd be most efficient if two people went inside. I think you and Rifle should out here for now, keep our eyes out for their reinforcements."

Kumiho nodded, giving the Courier a concerned stare as she walked out of the building. The Courier hummed as he turned around, and looked over to Lili. He took his fingers and pointed them in his eyes, before making an arcing motion up and down the darkened street receiving a small shaky thumbs up from the quiet girl. Nodding, he pulled out his rifle, putting in another magazine before pocketing the empty one, pulling back the cocking handle with a satisfying click. Holstering his rifle, he began reloading his revolver as he walked into the slaver's den.

The air smelled like any slaver den, of various sexual and bodily fluids that come with forcing people into becoming property. The Courier winced as he walked through one of the side rooms of the warehouse, steeping over the bodies of half a dozen unconscious slavers. He met Cu as he stared wide eyed inside the main area. He tapped his friend on the shoulder only to start in surprise as Cu vomited his dinner all over his boots. The Courier patted his friend on his back as he coughed up the last few bits of brown chunky stomach acid like a first-time smoker. Cu gave the Courier a horrified expression, and he responded by simply nodding slowly.

He looked into the main room, blankly staring at scene within. All around the warehouse sat, lay and stood drugged out looking women, some of whom had missing ears and partially cut off tails. Several had entire patches of skin missing, with a few scales above and below the scarring to indicate them being faunus at all. He turned to Cu, and pulled him up from the ground. His partner looked at him with a nearly broken expression. Cu slipped between the small border between horrified and furious, and he twitched a few times. A small violet light cracked from his eyes as a crack formed on his right spaulder. The Courier heard a buzzing sound in his ears, as if an alarm began to blare right next to him. Cu breathed in and out to calm himself down, as both the strange glow disappeared, taking the unlocked stone's with them. "Ca-Courier..." His mouth became that of one of the singing fishes that tended to be shot full of holes after one too many rendition of "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life".

The Courier grasped him on his shoulder "Sorry you had to see this." His partner looked down the hallway with a despondent, horrified expression as the realization of the sheer scope of what he just witnessed hit him like a mini-nuke.

"No one should have to see this" His partner responded, a tired expression marring his features.

The Courier nodded and simply pat his friend on the shoulder, "but we can't just let 'em stay 'here."

Cu nodded as the Courier pulled him up, and sped off into the main room, briefly appearing after a moment, slowly carrying one of the girls into the opposite side before appearing again carrying a slaver over each shoulder. The Courier chuckled and went to the second floor, waving at his friend as he walked along the catwalk. He pulled the first slaver he came across over his shoulder and entering the office room at the end. He plopped the slaver down, before carrying a young drugged out woman down the stairs into one of the side rooms. He lost the time as he worked, blinking when he looked down the catwalk realizing that he finished locking up all the slavers.

A niggling feeling in the back of the Couriers mind made him tense up, glancing at each door of the catwalk through the green light of his helmet's night vision. His stomach churned as he felt his neck tense up, his typical reaction to quiet, the thought of someone stabbing him in the back manifesting as discomfort. His mind knew that his Aura, unlocked by the kind folk of Remnant, would take a surprise blow, but tension kept the Courier from dying countless times. He activated his Pip-Boy as he hid his breath, listening for any telltale signs of others. The Pip-Boy's screen lit up and he turned off his night vision briefly to look at the screen. A new map appeared, detailing the layout of the warehouse and the surrounding area.

Twisting the nob he stared at the local map, arrows representing his comrades alongside their names appeared in several spots on the map. Lili's position appeared transposed over the corner of a different building than the one she climbed earlier, while Kumiho paced back and forth in front of the garage of the building. Cu appeared just below his own and appeared to be leaving the building. The sound of someone landing on the catwalk behind him caused the Courier to tense before sighing deeply, ready to get onto his friend for scaring him like that.

"Lancer, you finished right?" The Courier asked, turning around.

"Hope he did," the huntsman said, a simple smile on his lip. "At least then it'd make your deaths someth-"

As the man moved his arm to pull out his weapon the Courier fired twice from the hip with his Ranger Sequoia, Morales, fanning the hammer and hitting only on the second shot. He ducked as the man swung his sword at his neck. Jumping as a second slice came at his thigh, his opponent likely attempting to strike across his femoral artery for a quick kill. The Courier fired the third shot from the revolver, hitting the man in the right arm as he dodged left.

The Courier cocked the hammer back to fire off the final round, only to back in surprise as the shadowy man appeared right in front of him, a happy grin reflecting the moonlight. He aimed a slice at him, the blade still nearly invisible. The blade hit him in the chest, sending sparks flying as the edge cut against the tough, thick steel that composed his armor. The Courier briefly registered the fact his feet no longer touched the ground right before flying backwards he slid a meter when he landed, his helmeted head hitting the bar sat the end of the catwalk.

He rolled as the rogue huntsman slammed his shadowy blade down, barely avoiding the strike as sparks from metal clashing on metal briefly ignited. Standing up he charged the huntsman, tackling the surprised man into the wall, before throwing a hook at his face with his left hand. The huntsman dodged, grabbing the Courier's arm before slamming a blow into it, causing the Courier's Aura to flare briefly as the pain of what should have been his arm breaking shot up his artificial spine. As he felt the pommel of the blade smash the back of his helmet, he pulled out his combat knife. Twisting his body he stabbed the man in his thigh, aiming for the man's superficial femoral artery. The Man's aura flashed brightly, taking a hit from what would have been an extremely lethal blow.

The man kicked the Courier in the face, forcing him onto his knees, The Courier raised the knife above him, intercepting the shadowy blade with the flat of his own. The clang of steel clashing filled the air as the Courier desperately pushed the blade back forcing it to clang against the floor as he stumbled upwards. His opponent chuckled and backed about half a meter, letting the Courier stand up.

"Your surprise me, Atlesian!" the Man said, taking a step forward. The Courier shook his left arm before adopting a ranger's melee stance. He held out his forearm out in front of him, the Pip-Boy's metal chassis providing a small shield for his chest and face. He held the knife out slightly to his side, with the tip pointing towards the man's smiling visage. "You're the only person I've ever been unable to read!"

The Courier attempted to block the man's strike by slamming his Pip-Boy into the man's wrist, but only managed to meet the blade as it came at him from above his shoulder, the force of the blow pushed him backwards as the sword left a small scratch on the durable device. A kick met the Courier's chest, and the Courier sailed through the closest second story window, hitting the ground on his back, causing him to groan as he felt the pain all the way down his legs. He felt the glass shards embed into his arms and neck, not piercing deep enough to cause massive blood loss. He groaned, realizing his aura ran out, and sat up slightly.

"CALEB!" Kumiho shouted from a distance, and the Courier rolled to the side as the huntsman landed feet first stabbing his blade straight into the concrete. The sword went in a quarter to the tip. The Courier pulled out a Light Shining in the Darkness, and fired off all six rounds as fast as his somewhat slow trigger finger could pull the trigger back. The first shot hit the man in the arm as he dodged, and he retrieved the sword in one final pull. The second and third shots hit the corner of an alleyway and a dumpster. The fourth bounced off the one of the walls and grazed one of the fallen slaver's arm, causing blood to begin pooling around his arm. The last two rounds went through an upper floor window of an adjacent warehouse.

The Courier studied the man in the Vacuoan moonlight, his eyes having adjusted to the somewhat low amount of light, giving him a good overview of the huntsman's features. He wore some armor, unlike most of the students at shade, but only about half a set which covered his torso and shoulders. Riveted bands covered his shoulders, and the top quarter of his upper arms. A steel cuirass covered the front of his chest, with only a single scratch running diagonally from the armpit to the hip marring its near perfect appearance. A back-piece, under the front piece, provided the huntsman's back with protection. Under his armor he wore a simple, short sleeved tunic, which allowed him to display the wiry musculature of his arms. In his right hand he held a European longsword, dark as a starless night sky, the sight of which caused the hairs on the back of the Courier's neck to raise. The Courier never put much faith into mysticism, yet the small, almost miniscule dark glow that surrounded the sword gave him pause.

Kumiho charged from behind, swinging her blade in a wide horizontal arc, which the man jumped onto, using his weight to stop the ax's swing. He stabbed her in the chest causing her to be thrown back and dropping her massive battleax. As she flew, the Courier holstered his weapon, and looked over towards the warehouse, hoping to call out to Cu. He only noticed the blur milliseconds before the sounds of clashing metal filled the air, two dust clouds indicating Cu's stopping point. The huntsman had parried Cu's spear, and threw a kick in his direction. Cu pulled back, dodging the kick and dashed around the man nigh instantaneously, stabbing at him several times in blurringly fast attacks, each aimed at a different part of the man's torso and each coming from a different direction. The huntsman dodged each strike, sucking and weaving as he stepped off of Kumiho's ax, a tired smile on his face. He grabbed the spear just under where the barbs hid, and pulled Cu close, before grabbing him, forcing him in the direction of Lili. Cu twitched as the .308 round hit him in the chest, causing his aura to flare.

The Courier pulled out his LAER, recently modified to prevent explosions upon target death, and fired at the huntsman's arm, causing him to drop Cu to the ground. Cu sped out, grabbing both his lance and Kumiho's ax as he dashed off towards Kumiho. The Courier dodged a strong horizontal strike from the man's blade, and called out to his allies. "Lancer! He knows where she is, get Rifle out of there!"

Cu dashed off behind a warehouse and disappeared as the sword stabbed into the Courier's breastplate, sending him flying. He felt strong arms catch him and plant him on the ground. He nodded his thanks to Kumiho before motioning for her to attack the huntsman from the left, while he took the huntsman from the right. The huntsman continued to face him, with that nigh permanent grin on his face, even as Kumiho aimed the barrels of her shotgun.

The Courier fired off three shots, each one missing as the man sidestepped randomly with each trigger pull. He jumped up as Kumiho fired, allowing the shots to create a series of massive holes near one of the warehouses. The huntsman turned his descent into a strike slamming into Kumiho's Ax's shaft, before using the falling momentum to kick her in the stomach. She cringed as she fell back swinging her Ax one handed to prevent him from hitting her with a second strike. In the middle of her swing she fired the shotgun blasts, which, again, he dodged nonchalantly. The Courier furrowed his brows as he fired at the man's torso, hitting the man squarely in the shoulder. A clanging sound filled the air as his left spaulder hit the ground, and the man stood still, staring surprised at the Courier, before dodging out of the way of the following shots. The Courier flipped a switch, dropping the microfusion cell pack as he pulled out another, only to drop the weapon and dodge to the side as the huntsman slashed at him repeatedly with his blade. He felt the blade nick the skin of his arms and thigh as he continued to dodge.

Kumiho intercepted one of his attacks, sending sparks flying and the man backed away as she twisted and swung her ax upwards. He furred his brows at the two Shade students and took a hunched forward stance. He looked at his missing shoulder spaulder with a blank look before turning towards the two students. His mouth opened and he began to gape, a somewhat shocked expression on his face. He then contorted his expression, giving the two a wild, ear to ear grin and wide, frenzied eyes.

"Amazing! Absolutely Astounding! Awe IN-SPI-ER-ING!" He said through his wicked grin, causing the Courier to grimace. "You are a truly worthy opponent!" He switched stances, holding his longsword with both hands for the first time in the fight. The Courier's eyes widened and he felt his back for a flash-bang, hoping to blind him long enough for them to kill him. The Courier dropped the flash-bang, putting his right hand over Kumiho's eyes as the flash went off blinding the man in front of them, who began blinking and charging in the direction that they used to be standing at

The Courier pointed to him and clenched his fist as he pulled out the weapon he spent the past two weeks repairing. Kumiho nodded and once again engaged the man in melee, her glowing eyes squinting in concentration. She struck from every angle, running around in a counter-clockwise circle, striking at him with diagonal and horizontal slashes. The man, still clenching his eyes shut and grimacing, parried the first strike forcing Kumiho to spin clockwise and strike again from below, which he sidestepped within an inch of.

The Courier loaded in a cartridge containing five overcharged microfusion cells, and flipped the switch on the side, starting up the electrical charge. Dodging his counterattack, she backed up and fired, destroying the lamppost he stood in front of. She flipped backwards from the force of her weapon's fire and landed on her feet and left hand. She charged from that position, firing off another round of shotgun shells as she jumped, propelling her through the air at an increased speed. She spun as she flew, throwing a strike powerful enough to leave air trail at the man, who only held his sword up in time for the blow to send him flying towards one of the warehouse walls. Her ax slammed into the ground creating a massive crater of concrete and re-bar.

The Courier aimed at the recovering man, whose smile dissipated slightly as he looked straight at the wastelander. Pulling the trigger, the newly repaired and modified gauss rifle fired off a round hitting the man in the chest. A blue explosion resounded around the strike, causing part of the warehouse wall to cave inward as the huntsman flew back several meters, denting the wall before collapsing to the ground. The huntsman laid there for a good five seconds as Kumiho approached.

"Wait! Ax, don't-" the Courier barely got out before the man grabbed Kumiho by the neck and charged at the Courier, using his teammate as a human shield. Holstering his gauss rifle, he attempted to dodge before the weight of his partner slammed into him, sending him sprawling. He heard the man run at them, and the Courier twisted putting his body in front of her, not wanting to gamble whether or not she still had aura left. He grit his teeth as the huntsman slashed upwards, slamming into his head. He felt his body follow his skull, his artificial spine retaining its connection to the metal portion of his skull, as if riveted to it. He briefly noted his flying helmet slamming into a streetlamp just before his body made a dent in the metal wall of the warehouse behind him. Collapsing to the ground, he pushed himself up slowly, trying to get his lungs to breath. Looking up, he watched as the huntsman approached Kumiho.

He took out his plasma defender and fired seven shots as he stood up, using the wall as a brace. The man dodged all of the shots, before picking up Kumiho's weapon and cocking it. The Courier began to twist in order to dodge but the force of six shotgun shells hitting him knocked him back into the wall again. As he collapsed into a sitting position, he dropped the plasma defender which slid just to his as he landed.

His armor blocked most of the shots, though he could feel the burning sensation of several pellets burying themselves somewhere between his epidermis and reinforced muscles. The warm wet feeling let him register his now bleeding right arm, the single quick spurt of blood further letting him know that a pellet hit an artery. Looking down, he registered that his right thigh was bleeding in at least three places, though not so much that the femoral artery had been hit, and he silently thanked the Think Tank for what they put there after the Battle of Hoover Dam.

He looked up, his lightheartedness allowing him to just barely make out the man dropping the ax and dodging as several bullet-holes appeared in the concrete under his feet. Kumiho charged at him throwing a punch at his stomach before being smacked in the back of the head with the pommel of the sword. She collapsed to the ground hard, and pushed herself out of the way of the huntsman's strike, only to receive yet another follow-up kick to the gut from the man. She flew a few meters back before sitting up.

"R-Run Ku-K-A-Ah..." the Courier barely whispered out before groaning in pain. He attempted to drag himself up only to collapse back down. He reached over his body wincing as blood began to soak into his undershirt. He grabbed the plasma defender and aimed it at the huntsman as he approached Kumiho. He fired off two shots, hitting the man once in the back, and missing the second by about half a meter, burning a hole through one of the warehouse walls. The man turned around and gave him a shocked look before charging at him. The Courier fired four more shots at the man as he charged, missing with each shot. The Courier held up the plasma defender as the man prepared to slice his head in half.

A spear met the blade before the swing began, and the Cu's shadow fell over the Courier's body. Cu lifted himself using his spear and the man's arm strength and spun his body to kick the man in the face. The man ducked just as the kick went over as well as Cu's second kick, and backed up. Cu stood in front of the Courier, holding his spear with his left hand cupped under the spear, so that he could aim the strikes better. The rogue huntsman humphed and gave Cu a bored frown, before stepping back once again, dodging one of Lili's shots. The loud sound of a sniper rifle being fired filled the air, letting the entire team know she pulled out her own rifle.

"Y-y-run..." the Courier got out before coughing out some blood, though less than the previous cough, indicating his lungs already began healing. Cu simply crouched towards the ground, as if preparing to sprint, holding his spear just one handed. Cu struck as the man dodged another of Lili's shots, stabbing the man in the center of his chest. The man parried the strike, and backed up before Cu's gut kick could hit.

"Not a chance, bud!" Cu screamed before dashing around the man. The Courier, his arm shaking from the pain, fired a couple of rounds, holding when Cu appeared just near where the shot might hit. Neither hit, but they forced the huntsman back like Lili's shots did. Cu swung his spear horizontally, utilizing the head's sharpened sides as a slashing weapon. The long tip met the man's dark blade for a moment before the man slid to the side. The man dashed towards the Courier, his blade looking to slice something off. He fired three times as the man charged before holding his left arm up to meet the blade. The blade slammed into the Pip-boy, and sent sparks flying.

The man pulled back and prepared a stab before jumping to the Courier's right, a bullet-hole appearing just half a meter to the left of the Courier's chest. Cu stopped dashing just a hair short of kicking the Courier in the groin, and stabbed his spear at the rogue huntsman, forcing him to back away from the downed wastelander.

The man gave a frown and humphed shifting his stance once again, once again gripping his blade in just his right hand. He stood still, as if waiting, but Cu simply pointed his spear at the man, wary of the obvious opening. The man dodged the sniper shot, as well as the subsequent shot that followed a second later. Cu dashed around the man, as fast as even his speeding form could go, thrusting his spear numerous times at the man, who simply dodged them as he neared the Courier.

The Courier attempted to stand up, only to be kicked over and onto the ground. He clenched his teeth as he tried pushing himself up, only to feel a foot holding him down. He sighed as he turned his head. He felt the man crouch quickly and bend his arm around trying to get his plasma defender. As he felt the tug on his arm start, the Courier fired, heating up the device and creating a new hole in the nearby wall. The man's weight left his body and he felt himself be dragged about an inch as the man kept his grip on the defender. Pain ran up his body and he let the energy weapon go, berating himself mentally as he felt his grip lessen.

Cu jumped over the Courier and thrust his weapon down at the man, scratching the huntsman's armor as he dodged to the left. The huntsman smiled briefly before dropping his sword and grabbing the shaft of Cu's spear. He tugged the spear and put Cu in a headlock, forcing him into a human shield. He aimed the plasma defender towards the top of the warehouse and began firing. He twisted his head and dodged a shot from Lili, before firing in a different spot, firing off the last shot in the plasma defenders extended power supply. A small, weak scream let out before a thudding sound interrupted the silence. Blinking the man aimed the defender at Cu's head and grunted as the weapon clicked, shooting nothing.

He tossed the now empty energy weapon aside and pushed Cu forward, before stabbing him with his own spear. Cu's aura flared brightly as the man ran with Cu caught on the end of his own spear before being slammed against the ground hard enough to send Concrete flying. Cu groaned and spit in the man's direction as the man walked towards his fallen blade. Holding his blade in his right hand, the huntsman looked around at the carnage of the fight and grinned. The Courier managed to twist himself around, and leaned against one of the warehouse walls.

"Much more challenging than the last ones," he said as he approached the Courier. Looking once more behind him, he nodded his head as Cu shakily stood up, an otherworldly violet glow coming from his still light gray eyes. He stepped forward before wincing, and doubled over. "You're all one in the same. You both don't know when to cut and run, do you? Admirable, really." The huntsman crouched down and looked the Courier in the eyes, throwing the Courier's knife to the side as he weakly attempted to stab the man in the neck. "Even to the end huh?"

The man stood back up and pulled from behind him Morales, the last bullet still unfired. The man flipped the thumb release on the side, and the cylinder came out. He pushed the bullets out the back, letting them fall to the ground. Cu went wide eyed and stepped forward, his spear in his right hand.

"No!" Cu begged before falling to his knees once again in pain. The huntsman huffed and loaded the one round still unused back into the revolver. He clicked the cylinder back in and spun it a few times, smiling at the clicking. He spun it manually when it finished, placing the cylinder with the bullet at just to the side of the twelve o'clock position. He cocked the hammer back, aligning the cylinder with the barrel, and aimed it at the Courier's head.

The Courier gave the man an unamused stare, and humphed. "Make it count."

He only saw the flash of the bullet being fired before feeling the searing pain of a bullet hitting his head. He felt the sparks as it slammed into his skull, the scraping felling of the bullet hitting the thick saturnite alloy plates which the Think Tank replaced the top half of his skull with, burning slightly less than the bullet. The bullet traveled around his metal skull, cutting through the skin and separating the slightly rooted dermis from the artificial skull, before shooting out from the other side in a horrific bloody mess. The Courier let his body drop to the ground as the world began to spin, and he felt the blood trickle down to his eyebrows, masking his blinking from the man in front of him.

He listened to the world around him ring, only for something else to blast into his ears. An unnatural, eldritch sound broke the relative silence, reverberating against the metal walls of the warehouse next to him. It sounded as if three dozen guitar strings snapped at once while a man screamed with the tone of an air raid siren three octaves higher and lower than the usual pitch simultaneously. It audibly trepanned into his skull, making him hear and think in nothing but the sounds. Dozens of sounds surrounded the noise like a blanket, screaming and buzzing and gnashing, as if the natural word screamed in abstract agony. The huntsman stepped away from the sound, towards his head. The Courier opened his eyes and looked towards the source of the sound.

He desperately wished he kept his eyes shut, hoping that his still body might fool the **thing** which stood where Cu had struggled to stand just moments before into believing him dead and gone. The thing wasn't so much human as it was like looking at the human form backwards through a shaky, blaring, and static filled television. His vision trembled as he stared at it, with the tinnitus like ringing in his ears growing ever louder the longer he kept looking at it. In all the five years he wandered the wastes, of all the horrific and terrible creatures he saw, fought or ran away from, none compared to the absolute alien and terrifying sight of the thing before him.

The monstrous thing stood tall in the spot Cu had been, hideous and otherworldly, a scathing mockery of the human form written in every one of its deformed and mutant cells, in every one of its pointed, bristled hairs, in every perverse and horrific undulation the thick, swollen, meaty muscles that composed the thing's right arm made. Its legs were on backwards, with the knee facing the same way as its hunched, shaking back, the thighs and muscles still in place despite the twisted bone and skin. The skin broke and blood pooled under its feet, reflecting the embers that flaked off the body like a raging campfire. Its chest distorted, twisting and turning, muscles and bones changing places as the thing breathed in air and breathed out smoke. Its left arm hung there, all skin and blood vessels, flopping about like a pupped being swung to and fro.

Blood vessels as thick as tree limbs thumped against the thing's immense and bony forehead, trailing down to the things trunk like neck. Every black hair pointed up in different directions, needles long and stiff enough to pierce through a man's thigh. Its ears shrunk in and out of its head, a crunching sound filling the air with each inch they moved. It's mouth distorted, its jaw locking above the upper, as it's massive, swollen, lower lip covered up to the things nostrils. Its left eye disappeared deep within its skull, a hole the size of a needle forming from the sucked in skin that went with it. Its right eye hung out from the stock, displaying the bleeding, fleshy eye-socket beneath it. It opened its mouth, its cheeks peeling back and ripping to allow it to open fully. The Courier could see the thing's lungs and liver vibrating in the things mouth as it screeched a sound loud and alien enough that even the walls shook in fear.

The Courier looked at the color of the thing's remaining eye and blinked. _Cu?_

* * *

 **AN: Cu's semblance is revealed.**

 **Next chapter coming soon... hopefully on or by Christmas day.**


	11. Riastrad

**AN: Sorry for the wait.**

* * *

" _There are no monsters besides men and that which they wrought."_

 _-Reverend Sycamore- Boneyard_

Chapter 11: Riastrad

The Courier strained to keep conscious, the dark city about him becoming blurrier and blurrier with each passing moment. He rolled his head to his side, facing the rogue huntsman who had since dropped Morales and turned about, preparing to run. His eyes still twitching from the pain, the Courier grasped the huntsman's ankle, gripping it with what little strength he had left. He tripped. The huntsman looked down at him, his expression blurred by the Courier's concussive fog.

"I told you," the Courier coughed out, before giving the man a grin stained with blood. "Make it count!" The huntsman growled and kicked his head into the ground, and the Courier once again glimpsed the monstrosity. Cu, or whatever's controlling the mass of muscle of flesh and broken bones, slammed the spear, completely reddened from the blood seeping out of the creatures hands, into the ground next to its feet shaft-first hard enough to send a powerful gust their way and cracking the pavement. The thing slammed its foot into the ground, further cracking the road hard enough that a web formed around the impart, the edges reaching far past the prone wastelander. The force of the stomp launched Cu's spear up to the things neck. The thing twisted inhumanly around, filling the air with the cacophonous symphony of bones crunching and breaking and mangling with every twitch the blob of muscle and rage made. It gripped the shaft of the spear between the two largest of its deformed toes and twisted as if throwing a spear. The Courier's face dragged against the ground as the rogue huntsman tried to flee once again, a small trickle of blood coming from the ridge of his nose.

Suddenly he felt the ground disappear as something broke the sound barrier to his left, his replaced eardrums allowing him to hear every painful decibel. He watched the world twist briefly as he his body flew backwards towards an opposite warehouse, the lights of the stars passing by several times, he hit one of another warehouse's metal walls, leaving a sizable human shaped dent before bouncing off and falling a good meter and a half face-first into the pavement. He felt innumerable tiny glass shards go dermis deep into his body as he hit the ground. He heard a snap and he felt a sharp pain course from his right elbow.

" _Pop a thousand times before breaking once," right? Guess they weren't posturing after all._

He struggled to look up towards the other side of the street where he had been laying up until now. A trail of clouds led from the creature to a now half destroyed warehouse, the blood covered spear sticking out of the rubble like the surrounding re-bar. In several spots around it, the limbs of several of the guards stuck out as well, their lack of motion indicating their fates. The world shook as the creature let out a bestial cry, the vibrations stirring the Courier into attempting to stand. He managed to push himself up for about a handful of seconds before collapsing to the ground once again. He watched as the creature charged at the rogue huntsman who had been launched by the gust created in the spear's motion. The creature launched a dozen of blows with its massive arm, each too fast for the Courier to catch, yet the huntsman managed to dodge each one by about a hair's breadth each time. Each swipe left a dozen sparks to fade in and out of existence in their wake. A sweet and meaty scent, like a brahmin steak cooking in a skillet greased with gecko fat. The Courier winced. A human body was burning.

 _Smoke? Where's the fire? The hell is producing all that heat?_

The rogue huntsman dodged in and out striking the body whenever the creature finished it's attack, barely managing to cut the flesh of the monstrosity. Each cut barely grazed the flesh, blows strong enough to rend limbs barely left as much as a paper cut on the creature's thick skin. The huntsman dodged and retreated, not gaining more than a few meters before having to dodge again. The creature screamed, the air blurring around it like a mirage on an old highway for a moment before quickly dissipating, attacking with greater ferocity and speed, almost hitting the huntsman, who somehow managed to continue dodging, despite the speed of each blow.

The Courier felt himself being lifted before feeling the slightly cool concrete once again. This repeated a couple times as he heard extremely soft curses, before feeling his left arm being pulled. He briefly registered being dragged for a good minute as the sounds fighting became more and more distanced, his head slumped and lolled on the ground as the lights faded around him and he found himself looking up at the ceiling of a warehouse. Looking to his left, Lili hunched over breathing heavily, her massive rifle near the entrance.

"Ugh, did we get him?" Kumiho said, breaking the silence. The Courier watched her stand up from her position next to a bunch of crates next to the door. She tilted her head as a roar sounded in the distance. "What are those sounds?"

"... Cu," Lili replied, motioning for Kumiho to take a peek outside the warehouse. Kumiho looked briefly out the warehouse before gagging as she looked back inside. She covered her mouth and began dry heaving.

"By the First, there must be half a dozen-CALEB!" Kumiho shouted before rushing over to the Courier, looking over his bloody body, before grimacing. "Oh Gods no … Caleb, why?"

"Not dead," Lili replied succinctly, before looking down at the Courier. Kumiho just stared at his face as he looked from one to the other, lolling his eyes back and forth. She held her hand over her mouth as she realized that the Courier still breathed.

"Gods! How did you not pass out?" Kumiho said backing up before rushing back and putting a bit too much pressure on the Courier's head wound, a squelching sound accompanying her attempt to close the floppy bits of flesh wobbling about on his head. "We have to stop the bleeding! Wait, no … why… never-mind! See if you can find a first aid kit Lili"

Lili blinked a few times and raised her eyebrow, pointing at the Courier's left side. The Courier smiled slightly. Kumiho made some motions and Lili shook her head in her hand in the face before walking off to find some bandages. Kumiho began panicking and putting pressure on random blood-stained parts of the Courier's clothes. Looking at his left leg she quickly took off the bandana tied around it and tied it tightly around the Courier's head, obscuring his vision in one of his eyes. As she reached for the Courier's cowboy scarf, the Courier caught her hand, keeping a firm grip around her wrist even as she pulled away.

"No," the Courier spoke out through gritted teeth, not letting go. Kumiho just stared in shock.

"But Ca-"

"No." the Courier said, clenching his eyes shut. "You don't need to staunch every cut. I need you snap my bone back into place."

"But you-"

"Please."

She winced as she grabbed his right arm and twisted it slightly. He felt a sharp pain fly through his body as what he hoped was his ulna being set back into place. He grit his teeth and tried to keep conscious as his vision blurred further from the combination of pain and blood loss.

"Thanks. Now, on my belt. Left pouch … large syringe … has a tiny belt on it."

"But you're still-"

"Trust me."

She pulled back her hand as he released it and she looked through the large pouch on his belt. She looked aghast at the large Super Stimpak and the blood red liquid in its dual vials. She looked back and forth between him and the needle. The Courier nodded once. She opened and closed her mouth as she aimed the needle, shaking a bit before injecting into his left arm rather quickly before backing up, allowing the syringe to hang a bit. The Courier jolted slightly as the cold liquid spread throughout his body and the itching sensation of his wounds quickly closing up, and he heard at least one quiet *klink* as a small pellet fell out of his upper right arm due to his mending tissue and muscle spasms. Kumiho just sat there staring as the Courier's breathing slowed. Despite the healing power behind the injection, only half of it made it into his body before the needle fell out and the liquid spilled onto the warehouse ground. The Courier still felt wet around his ankles, where the blood flow only slowed.

"Thanks," he said, as he stared out the garage door. Kumiho began patting around his body and face, checking for anymore open wounds.

"Wha-what was that?" she asked. The Courier tried to stand, only to wobble back and forth rather shakily. He felt slightly cold and lightheaded and the world slightly spun as Kumiho gently pushed him back against a wall of boxes. "Whoa-whoa-whoa! Easy-easy!. You've lost too much blood, you shouldn't be standing . Lili! Come back! Caleb had some kind of healing syringe!"

"Tha- that's what I was trying to-" Lili began before a roar once again sounded throughout the night. The three stared at each other as they heard the sounds of crashing concrete in the distance. Lili rushed to the entrance of the Warehouse and grabbed her sniper rifle, and started to exit the warehouse.

"Look for the smoke," the Courier spoke up, a single drop of blood falling down the drying stain from the corner of his mouth. She turned her head around to look at him, and he saw that she appeared calm despite recent events. "Cu's burning." She stared at him for a moment, before turning around and leaving the building. He winced before staring at the ceiling, the light fixtures rattling as another roar split the quiet of the night.

* * *

Lili grasped the plastic covered bundle of electrical wires and climbed to the roof, lying down as the twisted form of her teammate entered her sight. It roared as it began tearing holes in the walls of the various warehouses to either side, as if looking for something. She closed her eyes for a moment and breathed, her view of the world disappearing. Faunus like her normally saw through the dark, the hues in which they viewed the world varying from faunus to faunus, and she appreciated such an ability every night she had to sleep in the same room as her leader. You can't trust a machine after all.

She heard the click in her mind as her eyes "shifted gears", the mental sound of a door being unlocked. Opening her eyes the dim unvaried colors that had once filled the darkened world exploded into countless, vibrant hues, some of which she knew had no names. Unlike the creature that Cu became, red splotches dotted the pillars of the half destroyed warehouse. As the creature pulled out Cu's spear, she fired, momentarily getting the creature's attention before the pillar next to it collapsed. A chunk of the warehouse roof trembled before collapsing on it, a beastial cry ripping through the night. She pulled back the bolt of her rifle and aimed her rifle at the half collapsed warehouse.

The creature burst out of the rubble not a second later, roaring in absolute anger. It's body still appeared gray in her vision, not a single spot of anything but the same color she saw when looking at a steel wall. She fired another shot, displacing Cu's spear as the creature attempted to grab it, causing the spear to spin rapidly before smacking against a wall and falling into the rubble. The creature looked at its empty hand as if pondering the mysteries of the soul. It roughly patted the ground and looked from side before staring straight into the middle of the street. Lili raised her eyes at the quiet behavior only to flinch in pain as it let out roar far louder than the others it had made.

She cried in pain as the sound beat through her hands and pounded her eardrums. She felt blood trickle from her ears and into her hands as the sound became ever louder. Her semblance turned off, the mental gear shift drowned out by the deafening sound, and she opened her left eye. The creature began charging up and down the street slamming its meaty arm into whatever it laid its hanging eye on, tearing up walls and asphalt and the occasional darkened streetlamp. As the sound petered off and the world become nothing but a muted ringing sound, she looked through the scope of her rifle again, hoping to cripple it long enough for it to turn back into Cu.

Her ears twitched from the sounds of a scratching underneath her, as her teammates moved about the ground floor. She could make out Kumiho begging Caleb, whispering for him to keep still. She looked at the creature and ground her teeth, racking her brain to figure how to escape. Her grandfather's lessons wouldn't go to waste. She gritted her teeth as she stared into the eyeless holes on what could be liberally described as a face. It rocked its head about sniffing the air trying to find something, as its needly hair swaying like trees in the wind. It opened its maw and exhaled, its chest deflating by half. Thick greyish smoke poured out of its mouth and dissipated. A smell wafted into Lili's sensitive nose, which she compared to burning beef liver.

Opening her mouth she realized it tasted worse than it smelled, like the blackest, burnt-to-a-charcoal steak she ever ate. She raised her upper lip in slight disgust before blinking. Caleb was right, Cu, or whatever left of him was burning in a literal sense. With the lack of steam from whatever water might come out of the thing's sweat glands meant a dry burn.

 _Burning huh?_

Lili blinked twice and took her eyes of the creature and instead inspected the various walls hoping to find what she needed. Up and down alleyways lied dumpsters and piles of useless paper and refuse, nothing which stood out as anything but useless when concerning the monster standing before her. Looking back at the creature her heartbeat stopped as she realized the thing stared at her unmoving. Gritting her teeth she pulled the trigger and shot at the things head as it reared back, causing the thing to stumble before running forward. As she pulled the bolt forward the creature jumped into the air, the sounds of bones crunching echoing into the night. She rolled to the side and off of the roof, falling backwards as the creature landed on the roof collapsing the corner of the building inwards.

"Agh! Oh Gods! Agh!" She heard Kumiho shout before running out of the warehouse carrying Caleb bridal style. Lili ran after them, barely catching up as Kumiho turned into the alley next to the ruins of the warehouse the Creature demolished. "What-what the hell are you eating Caleb? You weigh almost half a ton!"

"There… Bigger issues Miho." Lili responded as she looked outside the alleway. The Creature walked out of the warehouse with its one muscular arm grabbing the upper part of the metal sheet door frame and crunching it as it pushed it to its left. Lili felt Kumiho kick her leg before bolting down the alleyway Caleb still firmly in her arms. The sounds of metal and wood tearing forced them to look behind. The creature tore through the alleyway, his arm tearing a vast scar into the walls of the warehouse as it chased after them.

They broke out of the alleyway and into a large empty dirt covered lot. Abandoned construction materials and shipping containers lay covered in the dirt of the desert, the markings of a dozen different companies plastered on the sides of the various metal containers. A large obnoxious snowflake adorned the sides of several, with graffiti and hateful words covering a good number of them. They ran into the jungle of materials, taking an immediate right behind a pile of concrete cylinders.

Caleb breathed in quickly and began to struggle to get out of Kumho's arms. "Wait! What the-!" Caleb twisted and managed to land on the ground, catching himself with his knees and left hand. He used the Cylinders as leverage to get himself standing. Staring towards the right he began to limp through the gap between two other piles of cylinders. Kumiho grabbed his shoulder only to be shaken off. He stumbled slightly before continuing, limping slowly in a straight line towards a small water tower. Four wooden legs held up the metal tank about four meters in the air, a few thick pipes leading into the ground in the center, likely connecting it to both the city's main water supply and the fire suppressant systems installed in the various warehouses.

The sounds of heavy footsteps came from their left as the smell of burning meat filled the air like a smokehouse. Lili and Kumiho began to walk backwards, raising their weapons at the creature which unhinges its jaw, letting it flop under its distorted skull. The smoke surrounding them disappeared into its maw as it inhaled, only for it to stumble as several rounds bounced off it's cheek and chest. Growling, it made its way towards Caleb, who stood limply halfway between it and the water tower, one of the traffickers' pistols in his left hand. Caleb swayed back and forth as he backed up a step, a crazy look in his eyes.

"Get over here you son of a bitch." He whispered as the creature lunged at him, swinging downward with its massive tree-trunk of an arm arm. Caleb had jumped back as soon as the creature took a step forward. Lili watched as the arm slammed down hard enough to cause one of the piles of concrete cylinders to topple about, forcing the girls to move away to avoid being hit. Caleb flew backwards, but Lili noticed his massive grin. His slammed back first into one of the back legs of the water tower, bending it to the point Lili could see individual splinters. Caleb nodded at Lili, before pointing the pistol at the creature and firing, forcing it to roar and charge at him.

Lili took the hint, and activated her semblance. She aimed her rifle at one of the spots on one of the front legs of the water tower. Holding her breath, she fired off a shot, chambered another round, aimed her rifle at the other front leg and fired a second shot. The Water tower shook for a moment, swaying back and forth before toppling towards the creature. Caleb tried rolling back only to trip on a pipe and faceplant straight into the dirt. The creature roared as it charged directly in the falling path of the structure. As the water tower split upon the creatures needly hair the sound of sizzling, like a red hot skillet being placed under a running sink, overcame the sounds of approaching sirens. Steam filled the construction site, and the two girls shielded their face as the hot gas came over them in waves. The steam obscured even their night vision, and they stood still waiting for any signs of life.

The sounds of coughing grabbed their attention and they pointed their weapons towards where the creature last stood. As the mist cleared they saw a silhouette rising from the ground, using two arms to push itself into a kneeling position. They ran towards the shape the second they saw the two dog ears on the top of his head twitch.

"Cu!" Kumiho shouted. Cu coughed up water as the two appeared besides him. "Are you al-naked-you are very naked." Kumiho looked to the side. Lili simply kept her gaze at his face. He coughed some more and continued just kneeling there trying to breathe.

"Wh-What…Where am I?" Cu asked as he looked up, his eyes reflecting the light of the half-broken moon above them. Lili watched as he looked around, trying to see through the dissipating mist. He looked down and his look of confusion turned into horror. "Oh gods."

"Cu?" Lili asked, putting her hand on his back. "Are-"

"How many did I kill?" He asked, a worried look on his face.

"Wh-Wh-"

"How. Many. Did I kill?" Cu asked. Lili looked towards the destroyed water tower. "Lili. Please."

"I don't know." She said silently. Cu looked forward and gagged as Caleb became visible. His body lay under a small pile of debris. A puddle of water formed around him as water flowed from the broken pipes. The smell of blood entered their nostrils.

"Caleb," Cu whispered in a voice that began to crack, crawling forwards on all four. He shoved the wooden floor off and continued taking debris off his friend. "Caleb? Are you okay? Caleb! Answer me please! Come on bud, talk to me… please!" As soon as Cu threw the wooden beam off Caleb, he put his hand on Caleb's neck. "A pulse! Thank the First."

Cu sat down next to his unconscious friend and began trying to bandage his new wounds as the sounds of sirens echoed from not a hundred meters away. Lili stared at the flashing lights as they pulled into the street in between the Warehouses and sighed. She sat down, a sort of exhausted relief clear on her face as the police swarmed about. She watched as a group of SWAT officers led by a red haired huntress entered the warehouse where all the slaves laid. Kumiho began to freak out and Lili chuckled silently at her motions, which caught the attention of one of the officers.

"Don't Move!" he said as he approached. Lili watched as his stubble puffed out, giving the man a beard of scaly spikes. His glowing eyes went over each of them as he pointed his rifle at them.

"Oh crap oh crap oh crap I'm so-" Kumiho begun as Lili stood up, leaving her rifle on the ground and slowly pulling out her ID card. The officer looked over the ID for a few seconds, the scowl on his face not disappearing until he looked back and forth a few times. He sighed in relief and lowered his gun. He looked over at Cu and blinked a few times before speaking into his two-way radio.

Lili tuned out his conversation as she sat against one of the stone Cylinders. She watched Cu cradle Caleb as more sirens broke the night. She focused on the few stars she could see in the sky as the smell of sweat and blood filled the air, the growing scent of medicine and alcohol mixing like oil to water. She listened as a group of five struggled to lift Caleb onto a stretcher. Cu followed languidly as they loaded the stretcher into the ambulance. He stood behind the ambulance as is drove off, a distraught expression on his face.

"Excuse me?" a voice said, grabbing her attention. A tall, pale skinned man walked in front of her and knelt down. His tired expression, coupled with the dark spots of a week's worth of sleepless nights and the scent of cigarette smoke surrounding him bore into her mind, grabbing her attention. He spoke again, a gentle tone contrasting with his tired face, "I'm Detective Whitehorse. I think we might need to talk."

Lili nodded and followed him, listening as an exasperated officer calmed Kumiho down to. She glanced at the waking traffickers and the various faunus. Some of the faunus stared at the tree of them with eyes filled with just the tiniest bit of hope, but one of them just stared at the intersection where the Ambulance had turned. The detective opened up the passenger side door and Lili settled in. She waited as muffled voices came through the radio and hugged her rifle to her chest. The sounds of the back doors on both sides opening and Kumiho and Cu's voices filled the car. Cu had a blanket wrapped around his waist like a towel, just barely giving him a sense of decency. The Detective returned and settled into the driver's seat. He sighed as he looked into the mirror.

"Hey, you kids okay?" He asked, his voice tired but warm. Kumiho simply looked out the window nervously while Cu stared at his hands. Their weapons had been taken by the police. The detective looked over at Lili for a moment, and she responded with a shrug. He shook his head back and forth.

"Look, it's … uh" he mumbled off slightly, "I can tell that it's been a … long night for you all. I- I'm- I'm just going to go out on a limb here and guess that you all are real tired. I get it, most of us are tired. _All_ _of us_. All of us are tired. We've been on the trail of these bastards for the past month. Which is why … I'm going to have to ask you all some questions. Now I'll-"

"Is Caleb okay," Kumiho began, her voice trembling slightly. "He's not… he's not gonna die is he?" Cu looked at his feet quietly, a disappointed etched across his face.

"The EMTs said your friend is fine, considering all his injuries. He's still messed up pretty damn bad, but he's most likely gonna pull through. He'll probably be in the hospital for some time. I'm just guessing they're going to transfer him via Bullhead to Shade's medical wing sometime in the next couple weeks though, Lyon's prefers having injured students brought back once they've been stabilized. Not to mention Shade's safer right now." The Detective clicked his tongue and stared into the mirror, sighing as he noticed the relieved expressions on Lili's teammates faces. Lili leaned back into the cushions of the seat, the soft leather wrapping around her back. She let loose a mumble of relief as she heard Kumiho sob for a second or so, while Cu remained silent.

"Anyways, You kids need some rest. _Safe Rest_. I'm going to be bringing you to the station- **train** … train station. You're going to take the first train to Shade, and you're going to wait there until your friend gets transferred."

The man looked around and down at Lili's feet. He pointed towards a dark object just beyond her feet. Reaching down, she pulled up an old battery tape recorder, a big blocky "VXE" protruding from the steel front. Lili handed the ancient device to the police officer, who replaced the tape with another. He placed the recorder in between the two seats before starting the car. The green lights on the dashboard came on filling the car with a comfortable green glow.

"You're not arresting us?" Kumiho asked.

"Foreigner, huh?" he asked with a smug grin, as he pressed the red button on the side. "Yeah, no, this is how things are done here. No, I'm not arresting you. You aren't the first students to come and try and stop shit like this, and you won't be the last. The world could use a few more. Besides, Shade's been there long before this city sprouted up, it the law before us."

"Why _aren't_ ya' arresting us?" Cu asked bluntly.

"Well for one thing, you're not arrogant pieces of crap who think they're better 'n everyone else. Secondly… well you haven't done anything illegal… unless…" he said narrowing his eyebrows, as a grin spread on his face. He'd been saving this one. "You're wouldn't happen to be the guy who stole one thousand, three hundred and forty-seven lien worth of interracial pornography are you?"

"Wait, what? Who? Why? When?" Kumiho asked, stifling a chuckle.

"In order: Someone stole one thousand, three hundred and forty-seven lien worth of interracial pornography from several different adult goods stores; We don't know; They were likely a massive pervert and-or porn addict; and last week." He breathed, and grinned from ear to ear. "We all had a good laugh about it once we got back to the station. So, was it you?"

"I killed people!" Cu shouted. Kumiho looked out the side of the window. "There are gods know how many corpses lining the road, and I have a gallon of blood staining my spear! How… Why aren't you trying to take me in."

"..." Whitehorse looked out the window for a good minute, letting the car just sit there as police were helping the various faunus. "Do you honestly think anyone cares about a bunch of monsters?"

"What?" Cu asked, his eyes widening.

"Situations like this are fairly cut and dry. Huntsmen and huntresses get leeway when it comes to things like this. These aren't innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire, so no one, not us, **especially** after what we saw when we brought in their victims last week, really gives a shit if you killed them. Honestly I can see at least a dozen of us toasting you tomorrow."

"But I killed them." Cu said sadly.

Whitehorse huffed. "They deserve to die."

Kumiho choked on her response. "Wh-What does that even me- Are you friggin' insane?" Cu simply leaned back into his chair and looked out the window, a horrified expression on his face. "How the hell can you say that?"

"It's really not hard to understand," Whitehorse stated bluntly. "They can either die by huntsman's hands in combat or they can get the noose. It doesn't matter to me. No jury in the world would condemn you for killing them."

Cu simply looked down and whispered, "That's not why I'm worried."

"What?" Kumiho shouted. "They're still people!"

Whitehorse shook his head, and groaned. "Not legally, no, they aren't people."

"The hell do you mean?" Kumiho responded.

The Detective sighed and lit up a cigarette before rolling down the driver side window. "Have you ever wondered just how awful a person could be? Exactly how straight up nasty- Wait, no… Of course not, you don't need to. You've seen it with your own two eyes. Just how monstrous a human can be.

"These men are evil, no more, no less, but their actions don't just hurt their victims. The thing about men like these, is that their actions go far beyond just rape and slavery. When their next victim could be your or your neighbor, you tend to get scared. Everybody on the city's on edge. People are twitchy, frightened, and straight up _pissed._ Do you see where this is going?"

"... Grimm," Cu whispered.

"Since these men started kidnapping, an increased number of Grimm have been getting through the train tunnels and over defensive fortifications. Worse, there've been attacks on the Thisavros."

Lili spoke up, her soft voice barely audible over the humming of the engine. "We lose the farms there, we all starve to death."

"So… they're-" Kumiho started.

"The Council sent out a kill order on them about two days ago, didn't even take half an hour of deliberation. These men are going to die, either by your hands, ours, or the government's," Whitehorse stated, before grimacing. "Things are getting out of hand if the government has to give a kill order. But it's either that or deal with riots and starvation."

Kumiho blinked and looked at the man's eyes through the overhead mirror. "I haven't heard of any racial violence."

The detective chuckled. "Race riots? Hah! Good one! 'If you can survive here, you're welcome here.' That's how it's been since the Great War. That's how it _should be_. Humans and faunus aren't at each other's throats, _they're at ours_."

"But, you're trying to stop all this," Kumiho whispered quietly.

Whitehorse humphed before shifting gears and reversing. "Yeah, but vacuoans are vacuoans, regardless if they have a tail or an extra set of ears. And most vacuoans are wary-at best- of authority that isn't Shade Academy. The faunus are scared of getting kidnapped and humans are scared their friends and neighbors are gonna _get kidnapped_. They think we aren't doing enough. Honestly who can blame them, we didn't even pick up a lead till you kids got involved." He shook his head, and shifted the car into park, the empty road in front of them flashing from the police lights.

"Gonna be honest with you, though, I would take you back to the station if not for the fact it's not safe. Last week a rogue huntsman killed a contracted huntsman and infiltrated us, disguised as his victim. I think he was looking for information on you, and I'm worried he might come back."

Lili spoke up, her voice barely louder than the muted engine. "What was his weapon? Did he wear armor? What did he look like?"

Whitehorse blinked for a minute. "Sorry. Yeah, okay… he didn't take the dead huntsman's weapon for some reason. The guy had some sort of Longsword on his back and no armor except for a shoulder pad, but that was from the dead huntsman. He had dirty blonde hair, tanned skin, and green eyes. No scars, and he had a sort've round nose and sharp chin. That's all I can remember. Why?"

Kumiho shook her head. "That might be the same guy we fought."

Cu grit his teeth. " _Fought_ 's a funny term for it. Jackass nearly killed my best friend." Cu looked downward, a guilty look on his face. Lili looked towards Whitehorse who simply kept his eyes on the road.

"Well, did he say his name?" All three shook their heads, and the detective sighed at the silence. "Okay… Well, we'll look into him. See if he's the same guy. Anything you can give that might confirm it?"

Kumiho nodded and spoke up. "You could look into his sword, I don't know many huntsmen who would wield a pitch black sword."

"That sword ain't normal," Lili looked at Cu's face in the mirror as he mumbled. He furrowed his brow in concentration and he closed his eyes as he grimaced. "It felt too…" He trailed off, the words he wanted to say dying as the conversation continued.

"Pitch black huh?" Whitehorse asked, grabbing her attention. "Alright, then, I'll send word out to some of the other cities, see if they got anything on it. The weapons a good start, most huntsmen and huntresses use unique weapons so it's a good start as any. So anyway, how exactly did you find out about the operation?"

Cu's silver eyes met the detective's through the mirror. "Caleb wanted to go after them, we just tagged along."

"I'm assuming Caleb is your injured friend, correct?" Whitehorse asked. All three of the students nodded in response, and he stroked his stubble. "So how did he find the traffickers?"

The three looked at each other briefly before facing Whitehorse. The Car passed through three red lights during their silence. Kumiho spoke up as the car turned onto the parkway that lead to the train station, the streetlights creating flashes of light through the darkened car. "We… don't really know. I just followed his signal when he didn't return when he was supposed to. He was hiding in some alley behind a dumpster when two of those guys tried to kidnap me. We found an address to some unused car repair shop or something encoded in this case under the car. I honestly don't know how he figured they would stop there."

"Wait," Cu spoke up, "Did ya' say dumpster?" Kumiho nodded her head. "Ah. I think I figured it out. Now everything makes sense."

"Eh?" Kumiho responded. "How in the hell does the word 'dumpster' make everything fall into place."

"Me 'n' Caleb went by some camp of homeless people. He gave this little, tiny girl and her damn monster of an Atlesian Shepherd these big heaping steaks he cooked before we left."

Kumiho rolled her eyes, "I was wondering what that smell was."

"Yeah. I'm thinking she might have something to do with it." Cu finished, a grin on his face. The Detective nodded slowly as he moved into the far right lane of the parkway.

"Cu," Lili spoke up. "It's Caleb."

Cu blinked before wincing. "Yeah, okay. I wouldn't put it past him to give homeless kids steaks, he's an odd sort've nice, yeah. But he knew her name! Kit or somethin' simple like that. I figure that's how he met her."

"Was she a faunus?" Whitehorse asked, a look of curiosity on his face.

"Yeah, a fox faunus like Miho except actually cute-HRK-" Kumiho punched Cu in the side. "Ungh, that was my spare kidney. I was saving that for graduation!"

"Mmm. She nearly got kidnapped," he said. "She somehow got away, and then told your friend where it happened. He waited there in case they came back. A gamble, but it paid off. Did you learn anything? Where their other bases are, who's behind the whole thing?"

Kumiho shook her head. "Besides the fact that the kidnappers are faunus traffickers, and what they do to people, no."

Whitehorse tsked and groaned. "Damn. Well that's one hope drowned in sand. Do you know a Griss Cielo."

Cu shook his head, "No I don't think so."

"Wait. Former white fang? Goat Faunus?" Kumiho asked. The Detective simply nodded his head in response, to which Kumiho ahhed in realization. "Yeah, that asshole nearly got us killed."

"Ah, so he isn't a friend of yours?" The Detective said as he switched lanes. Kumiho shook her head and he sighed. "I was honestly hoping to get a little bit more than 'We kinda winged it.'"

"Sorry." Cu and Kumiho said simultaneously.

"Ahh don't worry about it. Anyways that explains how you found them last week but that doesn't explain how you found them this time. Same tactic or what?" The three students simply looked out the windows, the look of regret clear on their faces. "What's wrong?"

Kumiho coughed. "We knew they were kidnapping faunus… so we split up into two groups to catch them in the act, and follow their truck back."

"Oh." He stated. "Yeah, okay, now things are getting too grey for my opinion. I preferred this conversation when you guys didn't put civilians at risk. But I get it; exchanging one victim's temporary pain to save the whole. Waste time and let them get away, or use it, and take a nosedive towards an extremely dangerous mindset. 'Course it could be argued they'd have been taken anyway." He shook his head. "Honestly though, I can't say what you did was right or wrong, but..."

The conversation died as the Detective pulled off of the parkway and onto another road, cars containing blissfully unaware office workers next to them. The silence lasted until they reached the train station. He parked the car on the side of the road and simply let the engine rev for a good two minutes before speaking.

"Just be careful," he said. "The more steps like that you take, the closer you get to becoming just like them."

He opened the door and got out, popping another cigarette into his mouth before opening the door for Cu and Kumiho to climb out of the police car. Lili exited the car at around the same time Kumiho did, and walked around the front of the car. Whitehorse flicked off the ash from the cigarette before returning it to the corner of his mouth. He ficked the pack he held in his hand so that one stuck out, before offering one to her teammates.

"I'm too young." "I don't smoke."

He shrugged, and inhaled, the burning edge moving back as he drew in more smoke. "Suit yourself. Anyways you have about er," he said, smoke coming out of his mouth, before looking at his watch, "ten or so minutes 'fore the next train to Shade gets here. Now, we'll send a guy with the rest of your weapons tomorrow, including your friend's weapon."

"-s" Cu said.

"... Why did you just hiss at me?" He said raising an eyebrow.

"Weapon **s**. With an 's'," Kumiho clarified. "Caleb brought a bunch with him that weren't with him when he fell unconscious."

The detective squeezed his nose, " _A bunch_? Your… oh Gods you're serious. Alright, fine… can you remember what they look like?"

Cu nodded. "A big fancy revolver with a two headed bear on the grip-that's his baby, by the way- another pistol with some strange symbols on the side of the slide, some sort of ray-gun pistol thing, a semi-automatic rifle, a silenced sniper rifle that should be on one of the roofs, and a really large… erm… rifle, I want to say. It's about three-and-a-half to four kilos, and has wires around the barrel. I last saw it in the middle of the road."

Whitehorse's cigarette fell out of his mouth as he simply stared at Cu for what felt like a good solid minute. A look of dumbfounded confusion began to grow and his mouth began to open and close, as if he couldn't find the words necessary to express his befuddlement.

"Oh! He also had this really nice combat knife," Kumiho said, dealing the final blow. Lili hid her smirk as Whitehorse's eyes began to twitch.

The detective shook his head, "Of course. Of course! His armory wouldn't be complete without the _ever valuable and mighty combat knife_! Why in the grimm filled **hell** does he carry so much?"

Cu said, "Said he got used to it. Doesn't really slow him down all too much."

"I don't… that doesn't…" The Detective groaned. "Well shit… he's _that_ kind of huntsman, the one that gets sentimental about 'em. I'll let the officers know to look for 'em. We should be able to get your weapons in about, eh… a couple days or so. Anyway, train's coming soon, so I guess I'll see you later. Call if you find anything, you know our number."

Whitehorse entered his car and drove off, his red tail lights disappearing beyond the corner out of sight. The remaining members of team CRML sighed as they looked at each other. No words came from their mouths, and they simply sat on one of the benches until the train entered the station. A couple students left the passenger car next to the one they entered, adjusting their clothes and looking away from each other. Cu chuckled as he took a seat before leaning back and closing his eyes.

"Tomorrow…Today's gonna suck," He said. "I just know it."

* * *

"The hell do you mean _comatose_?" Dew shouted, causing everyone in the somewhat barren cafeteria to glance at the three teams sitting in the corner. Weekends meant most of the students left for home to see their parents, though some had started to come back. Enough still remained to take up all the best chairs in the tan walled cafeteria, leaving the group of eleven huntsmen and huntresses to take the corner seats. The smell of eggs and bacon still wafed through the air, and would until they switched to the dinner menu early in the afternoon.

 _I knew it._ Cu thought as he leaned into his hands, a look of pure exhaustion plastered on his face. To his left Kumiho avoided eye contact with the other two teams in the know about Caleb. "It's official. Today sucks **ass**."

"Well," Lili peeped out. "He uh… A-uh… Kumiho?"

Kumiho glared at Lili. "Don't look at me, you were the one who took the shot."

"Shot? What shot?" Octavia asked, a look of dawning horror on her face. "You… didn't shoot him, did you?"

"I-... he… he told me to take the shot."

"Wait! Wait! Wait!" Brawnz interrupted, before slamming his hands onto the table. "Caleb told you to shoot him? Why?"

Kumiho sighed. "Lili saw a structural weakness in a small water tower that we needed to topple for-" She hesitated, briefly looking over at Cu from the corner of her eyes. "-Reasons... Caleb just… happened to be under the Water Tower at the time."

Roy leaned forward and whispered. "His aura isn't that weak anymore, though. He is taking the pills right?"

 _Ya' just answered your own question!_

The three teams looked around before leaning forward. Cu sighed. "Yeah, I've been making sure he takes 'em every mornin'. Hasn't missed a single day. Seem to be working too. But his aura already ran out by that point."

May winced. "Oh crap, you mean…"

Cu shook his head. "Don't worry. He stabilized 'fore even getting to the hospital. Now we just have to wait."

Kumiho laughed in response. "Weren't you the one crying while holding him in your arms?" Cu jabbed her in the side, to which she snickered.

Octavia sighed. "Thank the First for small miracles." She shook her head and adopted a confused expression. "So who exactly were you fighting that warranted you to shoot an old water tower anyways. You never told us that."

The present members of team CRML looked at each other for a brief moment. "You know all those faunus being kidnapped around the city? Well, Caleb decided to go fight the people behind it."

Nolan slammed his hands down on the table. "He was the one who found them? How? The police have been looking for those bastards for at least a month! How in the Grimm filled hell did he find them?"

"He asked some homeless girl," Cu replied, his blunt tone expressing the truth of the statement. When the others gave him an odd look he simply shrugged. "Don't look at me, I don't got no clue how he even found her."

"Anyways," Brawnz spoke up, cracking his knuckles. "This means you guys went up against traffickers. That's a bit more dangerous than some gang or two bit muggers."

Kumiho shook her head and looked to her right. Down past the numerous empty seats sat some of the other first year teams. A group of students sat around the farthest table laughing and eating, their conversation much cheerier in comparison to their own. Half of the students were faunus of some kind, and true to Shade academy, no one really cared. Kumiho sighed.

"Something up?" Roy asked.

"It doesn't really make any sense" Kumiho said. "I've been thinking about it almost constantly. I just don't get it. Why target faunus exclusively?"

"What doesn't make sense?" Nolan huffed. "They're racist assholes. There's no other reason."

"No she's right. Traffickers don't this kind of thing," Dew said, earning a surprised look from the other students. "They don't usually kidnap people, mostly they just bait them into coming with them."

Kumiho shook her head. "Good point, but it's not just that. If they were going to do it to only faunus, why would they choose _Vacuo_. They're clearly smart enough to evade the police, they should know what would happen. Not to mention that rogue huntsman."

"Rogue huntsman pull crap like this all the time," Roy said, a sneer on his face. "That's why warrants are out for them. What makes you think a rogue wouldn't do something like this."

Kumiho shook her head back and forth. "Dunno. Just a gut feeling."

Nebula raised an eyebrow. "You think something else is going on?" Kumiho simply nodded her head. "Like what exactly? Think they're terrorists? Human Supremacists? C'mon, that's just movie logic."

"Maybe they're trying to cause panic," Octavia brought up. "I mean Grimm attacks have been on the rise after all."

Cu nodded. "Yeah, there's a kill order out for 'em. Maybe the Council knows something we don't." The others stood there in shock for a good half minute, horrified expressions on all but Roy's face. "What?"

"A kill order?" Dew asked, her voice shaking. Cu simply nodded, looking back and forth. "That hasn't happened in thirty years. Things must be dire if the headmaster though it was a good idea."

Cu blinked. "Headmaster Lyons is part of the Council?"

Dew shook her head, before stopping and biting her lip and tilting her head. She nodded briefly before shaking her head again. "Technically no, but he has more clout than even the other council members."

Octavia sat back. "He picked the initial members of the council, since there wasn't exactly a democratic process in Vacuo at the time, and the city needed some form of government or it'd've gone straight to the grimm... again. He didn't want to be king, even if people thought he should be. He also wanted to avoid a second Faunus Rights Revolution, so he choose a bunch of politicians from the other four nations whose council's abandoned them."

"Four… you mean one of 'em's from Menagerie?" Cu asked.

Octavia nodded her head. "Yup. Cherry Willow and Leo Beoulve. They're quite nice from what I hear. Despite them all having differing political views, they all share one thing in common. They all have respect for Lyons. The Council always asks him for advice when things like this happen. People trust Lyons far more than them, and his advice saved this country more than once. Going more than a decade without any violent uprisings is honestly shocking. Declaring a kill order is too important for them **not** to ask him."

"According to Caleb, Lyons didn't even know who the kidnappers were until he told him," Kumiho replied. "The fact that it took only a half hour of deliberation means that he might have even suggested it."

"He might know something we don't," Cu said as he jabbed his fork into a slice of ham. He took the entire slice in one bite, his cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk as he chewed. "Maythbe thbey habe dippherent ghoals thab we thib."

Gwen grimaced. "Do you want to try chewing your food before you talk."

 _Do_ _ **ya'**_ _want to try not being a bitch?_

Cu swallowed. "I dunno. Maybe I like talking with food in mouth." He shook his head. "Anyways, I said that maybe they have different goals than what we think. Perhaps they're after something. Or someone."

"Maybe," Brawnz said. "Or maybe they're terrorists like what Nebula said. Maybe they're trying to draw grimm here to kill everyone. Or they could just be racist pieces of crap. Nolan isn't always wrong." He shook his head before leaning into his hands. "So, when are you gonna visit him?"

"Honestly, when he gets settled in the Doc's office," Cu said. The others looked at hih as if he suddenly grew a second head.

"But," Brawnz said, glaring at Cu. "You said he was your best friend. Why-"

"Hospital messaged the Headmaster this morning" Kumiho interrupted. "He then sent us a copy of the message. They said he healed up enough there that they were comfortable sending him over tonight. He's still unconscious, but they figure he'll wake up in a couple a' days. I'm more worried they burned his clothes. He seemed to like that silk scarf of his."

"The dust filled hell is up with his body? That's fast," Brawnz said, before shaking his head back and forth. "Sorry. Well… sorry for asking that and for thinking you weren't gonna go visit him"

"Nah," Cu said leaning his head into his hand. "You're in the right. I'd be mighty pissed if someone didn't' go visit their best friend after something like this. But yeah, we're just waiting for word from Calendula"

"Will you let us know when they're approaching?" Nebula asked

"Sure, but we should all wait at least a couple 'a' hours or so." Cu responded. "Honestly we wanna wait till he gets settled in with Calendula. 'Be a bit awkward if we just stood outside as she yelled at his body… or felt him up again."

" _Nice_ ," Nolan said. Cu simply looked at the blue clothed youth dryly before shaking his head. Octavia frowned, her eyes narrowing as she glared at her half empty plate. Cu decided that she found Nolan's attitude to be wanting, and decided to not think about any other possibilities, lest he accidently make an ass of himself again.

 _Some of them still think Caleb and me are an item._

"I was just joking. Doctor Calendula didn't go all Mrs. Robin on Caleb. Caleb said she forced him to show her… _her his_ scars after she felt his scars accidently while using that stethoscope."

Nolan moaned. "Boring! That's _boring_! I reject this stupid reality where students can't seduce sexy nurses. At least Roy has a chance there." Octavia smiled, closing her eyes contentedly and sighing as Roy smacked Nolan on the back of the head.

"I'm honestly surprised he's still alive," Gwen said. "After initiation and this, I'm beginning to think he might just be immortal." Cu nodded in agreement, before standing up to grab more meat.

* * *

"Damn, but that hurt _good_ ," the huntsman said as he unwrapped the bandages around his chest. The faded bruises he got from the force of that Caleb kid's rifle, and the headache he got from that berserking dog faunus made him smile ear to ear in pure joy. He touched and rubbed them, feeling the aches in his body as he rubbed over his injured muscles. A line of drool came from the side of his mouth as the light pain went up his chest, the feeling completely and utterly alien to the man. He leaned back into his black chair and sighed, scratching his brow as he relaxed.

A single light, from the terminal on the new Atlesian desk in front of him, brightened up the dark red back wall of his office. The bookshelves sat empty with a few musk-scented tomes gathering dust from their disuse, and a couple of the crooked paintings let the huntsman know that one of those idiots wanted to mess with him. He huffed out a quick sigh as he pressed a couple buttons on the terminal. He looked through the various communication logs from his men. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he registered most of their conversations. Most of the men simply talked to each other about how good their "products" felt or how much abuse they got away with before one of their immediate superior's stepped in. Others dealt with racist insults that mostly involved the word "Bestiality" sprinkled liberally throughout the messages.

Shaking his head the man pulled out a bottle of scotch from one of the drawers. He filled a small shot glass with the golden liquid before gulping it down. Shaking his head he filled another glass as he heard tentative footsteps approaching his door and stop. He snorted as the liquid created a curved top near the rim of the glass, the surface tension just enough to keep the liquid from overflowing. He smiled as he heard whispers from beyond the door, a young voice trembling in fear as an even more terrified older voice forced the owner to move forward.

"I wouldn't recommend coming in right now," the huntsman said as he leaned back in his chair. "It's scotch o'clock and this glass is overfull. Any slight vibration would spill the drink. I think you know how I _feel_ aboutwasting." He chuckled as he heard the two henchmen step backwards. "I'd wait a good, uh... five minutes, enough for me to get nice and drunk before coming in." A green light on the desk began to flash rapidly and the image of a chess piece filled up the built in terminal. "-Make that fifteen minutes."

He stood up, listening in content as the two henchmen ran off. He sighed as he pressed the button to answer. A holographic icon of a black queen piece appeared above the desk, and bile rose up in the man's stomach. "Hello," he said in his most seductive voice. "You've reached Hot Vacuoan Studs hotline, for all of your intimate needs. Our records show that you've called over twenty times in the past month, would you like to talk to Big Dick Bull again or would you rather chat with someone else?"

He smiled contently as he heard a growl come through the speaker. "No joking around."

He snickered as he sat back down. "Says who? Our boss? She doesn't give a shit if I mess with any of you assholes."

"And perhaps your plan would succeed if you spent more time searching than joking."

He snorted. "You're one to talk. Didn't your little thief get fought off by a little girl?"

"Do not question my methods," she said. He could feel the heat. "My plans are coming along perfectly. _He's_ falling for each and every gambit like the fool he is. All the while the Fang are following my orders like good little dogs."

"Is that why you called me?" The man asked with a frown. "To gloat about a bunch of cowards."

"No, I called because I need to know if you have her yet."

"Do you?" The huntsman asked.

"That's a no then," She replied. The Huntsman growled, feeling her smug grin his bones. He hated that grin, and imagined punching it off.

"I should warn you though," the man said, "Things are going to get quite difficult from now on."

"Of course," She said matter-of-factly. "Ozpin and his sheep are not the kind to give up so easily."

"I'm still trying to figure out if that kid was in on that. He didn't seem like an utter fool."

"A child?" She asked, her voice screeching in anger. "Since when does someone like _you_ get beaten by a mere _child_."

"I guess you don't want to hear about how he was a _traveller_ then." There was a silence on the other end for a good minute. The huntsman swiftly drank his spilt drink and filled the glass again. His head began to lighten from the alcohol as the woman began to speak again.

"You lie."

"Well that certainly changed your tune," he said. "Well, I don't blame you for not believing me, I as sure hell wouldn't. He clearly didn't come from one of the four kingdoms."

"It's impossible. It's always a single traveller when they come. That's how it works."

The man raised his right eyebrow. "Are we the kind of people that trust rules now?"

"You know damn well what I mean! It's always been just one! There can't be more than one, it's impossible!"

"How do you know this isn't the _one_ that you're wailing about?" He asked leaning back into his chair.

"Because **she** would know if he was!"

"And she would just let us know?" The man leaned forward again. "It wouldn't be the first time she held something back from us. Are you sure-"

"Sure?" she asked. "Sure about what? That you're seeing things that don't exist? That you're not as strong as you think you are? That what you did was a fluke?"

The man growled. "It would be fluke _s_ , not fluke. I thought you were the meticulous one. Fine. Ignore me. You can come here and get killed by him if you want, I don't give a shit. You called for a reason. What do you need me for?"

"I don't need you."

" _You_ called _me_." He imagined her shaking her head in annoyance, bringing a smile to his face.

"I needed to know your progress. My plan hinges on making sure that she doesn't interfere. This conversation has lasted too long. Get a grip and kill that huntsman if he's interfering. Do your job. "

"Hmph," He grunted. "Need I remind you exactly who I killed to earn my place."

"Do not threaten me." She said sharply. He grinned, knowing he won. "Neither were as strong as I am, and _we both_ know this."

The man humphed and sat back. "I'd actually believe that, if you didn't need the maiden's power just to intimidate someone more important than a beggar and a paraplegic."

There was a silence that filled the room as the static from the connection became the only audible thing in the room. The connection dropped suddenly as the hologram disappeared, the woman on the other end ceasing their conversation abruptly. The man smiled softly as he leaned back in his chair. He knew he secretly loved the conversations he had with the half-maiden, since hearing her break never failed to fill him with the greatest satisfaction. He drew out of the warm phase of his joy as one of the traffickers he now controlled entered the room, shaking nervously as he approached the desk.

"Good timing," the huntsman said. The man gulped as he stood across the table. Bloody bandages covered the man's left arm. The man looked absolutely traumatized, and his nervousness around the huntsman helped him as much as a bullet to the head. "Speak, kid. I don't have all morning."

"W-We were attacked last night, sir."

"Yes, we lost the warehouse to those kids," he said bluntly, inwardly sighing. "If you don't shape up-"

"Uh… sir… that's not what I meant," the man said interrupting the huntsman. He raised an eyebrow as the man began again. The man placed a map down for him to see. "We lost half our procurement squad here," the man said, pointing to a spot close to where the group that freed the warehouse struck last week. "About a few blocks from _the village_."

"I thought I told you to wait a few weeks before going back."

The man shook his head. "It was Redd's idea. He- he said that one of the guys who got arrested last week mentioned seeing someone like who you're looking for."

"Okay," the huntsman sighed. "So you went looking for the golden egg. And you what? Got attacked by police?"

"No," the man said. "We were attacked by a dog."

The huntsman blinked, and scowled. "Are you telling me… that a fully armed group of SIX got nearly wiped out by a single damn _dog_?" The huntsman stood up, furious at the sheer incompetence.

 _What was the point of bringing them here? I could do better on my own!_

"The dog's aura was unlocked!" The man said backing up.

The huntsman blinked before sitting down again. "What?" He asked emotionlessly.

"The dog's-"

"I get that," the man said gesturing with his hand for the man to be quiet. "Stop. Shut up. A dog with it's aura unlocked, a _tough one_ no less, in this city? Too convenient. Do you have anything? Pictures, videos?"

The man pulled out his scroll and began scrolling about with his finger. He then shakily handed the device over to the huntsman, who took the electronic device from the man's hand with a snap. The huntsman stared at the photo for a good long while, a smile growing on his face as he stood there. "I'm sorry, kid. I underestimated you and your group. You all take a break, you've done well."

"Sir?" the man questioned.

"Leave. Please," the huntsman said in a kind voice. "As I said, take a break. I'm going to need you at your best for what's to come."

The man stuttered about before leaving in a rush. The huntsman's hands shook as he held the device, placing it down on the desk, coving a bit of the light from the room. He began to shake as the sounds of a crowd of _pre-shipping_ customers filled his ears through the open door. He began laughing as took a seat, covering his eyes as his grin grew ever larger. He sighed deeply and sent a single message to a good dozen of his best employees.

"I wonder how this one will fare."

* * *

 **AN: I honestly just didn't want to go through a "Hunters suck" "No Police Suck!" pointless argument in a police station.**

 **Again, sorry for not updating sooner. It shouldn't take this long for the next one.**


End file.
